Stealth and Witchcraft
by pixichi
Summary: She was an innocent child lost in an unrelenting corrupt world. He was a seasoned rogue who never let his feelings get the better of him. When he was paid to do so, he begrudgingly began to train her. Because coin had always been the one motivater for him to finish a job. Coin had been all he ever wanted. Until now...
1. Chapter 1

The rainy skies overhead had since cleared away into the deep purples and velvety blacks of nightfall, leaving the slums quiet and dismal. Town guards stood huddled around the fire pits, laughing, telling tales. and warming their frigid bones. Most didn't even notice the cloaked being slipping with ease through the streets. The figure stooped just beyond the shadows and undid the hood. Dark red hair flowed over the navy fabric like fiery blood. The auburn-haired beauty panted, and leaned up against the brick wall of the alleyway, desperate to catch her breath. Intense, sparkling green irises looked up at the brilliant night sky. It was late winter now, and the stars shone brightly in the cold dark night. Even the city torches and factory smog did little to dim their brilliance. The sight couldn't help but leave her thinking; what was she doing here?! It seemed so surreal, like the feeling one got after waking up from a realistic dream. Bolting up in your bed, only to feel relief at the sight of a familiar room. Only in this case, relief didn't come, and in its place, was a numbing emptiness. Did she really want to do this? A defeated darkness filled her head, threatening to drown out any and all of her joy. It wasn't a matter of preference; not anymore. The decision at been made, and the direction of her future decided. A single tear fell from her eyes, as the young woman released a load, mournful sigh. Turning away from her depressing thoughts, she continued on her journey.

As she reached the seedier parts of the neighborhood, a loud ruckus caught her ears. The young woman crept out of the alleyway to see two guards kicking a man dressed in tattered rags. Her mouth gaped in horror at the brutish scene.

"We warned you old man, keep yer nose outta our business!"

"You...were going to slaughter that woman...she has a child, and she's five months pregnant with another mouth..." The man protested with more bravery than any soilder. A sharp kick to his abdomen silenced his words.

"That wench has been stealing bread from the village shop for the last three months. Enough is enough! If she didn't want to be hungry, then she should take a job in one of the factories, or at least whore herself out. I'm sure she'd make a killing that way." The older guard chuckled.

"You...monster..." The man began again. That did it. The other guard hoisted the man to his feet, and pounded his bony frame up against the brick wall. The surveying woman felt cold dread grip at her heart as his fellow produced a wicked looking silver blade, and passed it to him.

"Couldn't just take the beating eh? You had to be difficult." The guard positioned his blade just below the man's ribcage. "Well, we'll teach you what happens to difficult gutter shites..." The man's eyes were now locked in terror at what was to come. He struggled violently, desperate to escape his fate. The hidden woman could stand it no longer! She closed her eyes and focused her mind. A dark energy crept across her arms, in a sensation that resembled dozens of crawling insects. She gritted her teeth and violently thrust her hands outward. A sinister blaze of black fire engulfed the two guards, tearing away at their armor, and melting their flesh. The man fell to his knees, and began to cower as their shocked cries evolved into bloodcurdling screams. Eventually, the spell subsided, and two ivory skeletons were all that remained of his tormentors. The man yelped and shook, dragging his battered body away from the gristly sight. A dark shadow fell over his person. He looked up to meet the entity, his heart threatening to leap out his throat. Little did he realize that this was his savior whom he feared.

"W-what do you want?" He asked, voice barely above a pitiful whimper.

"Are you alright?" A soft, female voice asked. The man cringed.

"I-I am...please miss...don't take my life!" He begged, pleading to her on his knees. His fingers were interlocked as he marveled up at her; praying to the woman as if she were one of the old gods. Begging her not to use her unknown source of volatile power against him next.

"Relax. I only did that to help you. Those men were going to-" She hesitated, deciding that the statement would be a moot point. The cowering bum at her feet was well aware of what the guards had intended. She decided to change the subject. "Hey listen. My name's Gwenevere, what's yours?" She asked.

"Umm...Fredrick..." He managed.

"Alright, hello Frederick. I have a question for you. You do live here in the slums, correct?"

"Uh, yeah." The man replied, still slightly shaken.

"Great! I came here seeking a man named Basso. Do you happen to know where his shop is located?" The beggar rose to his feet, and gave her an odd stare.

"Let me get this straight. You don't know who Basso is, and yet you want to meet with him? That's a first." He mused, temporarily forgetting the formidable power his savior possessed.

"I don't understand. Why would that be so strange?" Gwenevere asked. The beggar just shook his head, and motioned for her to lean forward.

"I don't know why you're looking for him, and frankly, its none of my concern. He usually doesn't like to be disturbed, at least not by anyone other than his contacts. But in light of what you just did, I will tell you where he is." He whispered.

"Alright."

The building's windows were dark, but a faint glow of light could be seen from within. Gwenevere took a deep, cleansing breath. Pushing away the last of her fear and doubt, she entered the establishment. A short, stocky man with ripped clothing and an odd smell poked his head out of a doorway.

"Can I help you?"

"Y-yes...Are you Basso?"

"Who wants to know?" The man emerged, crossing his arms.

"The beggars in the alley told me about you...I'm Gwenevere Simmons. I'm looking for work." The middle-aged pauper could barely belive his ears! A Simmons was never seen this far from their manor, especially to inquire about becoming a petty thief. The prestigious family had everything they wanted; and more.

"Simmons?! As in, one of the most influential families in town? Is this a joke?"

"No! I am being serious!" Gwenevere retorted, nerves budding into tiny fireballs of rage. While she had never been taken seriously by her family, she had at least expected better of the low class. Those poor fools were about as down to earth as they came.

"I'm sure. Ok, sweetheart, what's this all about? I know you're family ain't tryin' to bust my organization, else they would have sent the guards. Not some dressed down tart!" The runaway jerked back. A strange sensation filled her: A cold numbing. She had never felt such rejection before...it felt, wrong. But perhaps the worst part, was the fact that she honestly never thought that she would BE rejected. She wanted to help these people after all! The young woman had never wanted for a life of privilege and luxury, but rather one of raw, unbridled freedom. Now even the poor of this city were denying her this. Who didn't have power over her?!

"I want to be a thief, that's all there is to it." She crossed her arms in disdain.

"Why?! You're rich, you have everything at your fingertips." The young woman winced at his words.

"Not anymore. I-I've given it up." Gwenevere started, fighting back the teardrops that pricked her eyelashes. "I ran away, and I'm never going back. I want to be free." She proclaimed. Basso ceased his chortles and glared at her. Thick disdain mixed with curiosity now coated his expression.

"Fine girly. But it doesn't matter what you want, yer no one special down here in the gutter. And in the gutter, only one thing matters; survival. If ye don't have any useful tricks or skills, then ye can just sit yer pretty little arse down with the rest of the bums. and wait ta die." Gwenevere cowered slightly at his harsh tone, but she wasn't unnerved enough to back down; at least not yet. "Now if yer quite finished, I've got some brandy ta finish." The young woman took a step backwards, crestfallen. The strangers words were true; she had nothing to offer him, nor his services. Unless...Gwenevere hesitaded, the minutes inching by painfully slow. Her father had sworn her to secrecy, regarding her "special skills", stating that it would only cause others to think badly of her. But she was on her own now, and her father was not around to keep her mouth shut. She had already used it to help that homeless man, why not use it again?

"I-I do have a skill." She peeped. The man crooked a thinning grey eyebrow at her.

"Oh? What is it? Looking pretty? Perhaps you've mastered advanced etiquette?" He wheezed mockingly. Gwenevere tensed. A playful tingle ran down her spine. It was happening again. That untamed spark of mischief was taking hold of her. Her green eyes drove into those of the man before her. This was madness! She could simply tell him; show him with a minor demonstration. But no, Gwenevere wanted to secure his interest. She closed her eyes and lowered her head. The shop owner stared at her, never letting the absurdity of it all leave his thoughts.

"What are ya doin' lass?" He finally asked. As if on que, Gwenevere's eyes met his, though her head was still bowed. The look she gave him must have been intimidating indeed, for it caused the man to recoil backwards, towards his chair. "Oi! Lass, what the hell's wrong with y-" Gwenevere didn't answer him. She didn't have to. With a burst of primal passion, the young woman thrust her arms up from her sides. They were accompanied by a quick but brilliant pulsing light. The spectacle lasted only a moment, and when it was over, Gwenevere had regained her resting position. Basso got up from his chair and looked around, unsure as to what had just transpired.

"I can do that."

"Do...what exactly?" He shook. "Was that...was that...magic?" He asked, in a voice barely over a whisper. Gwenevere grinned.

"Sort of."

"Sort of? Is that a joke? I just saw you use magic girl, no use lying about it!"

"If you're so sure it was magic, then why did you ask?"

"I..um..." He scratched his head. "Er, well done kid. Well done. But unfortunately, I'm not sure how using magic is gonna help my organization. I usually look for rogues; those who are quick on their feet and dexterous. Magic is kind of a...big distraction."

"Oh, that was just a light spell. I have many more in my repertoire, including sleep spells, detection hexes, invisibility-"

"Alright, alright!" Basso interrupted, nearly laughing again. "I think we might be able to squeeze ya in kid." Gwenevere was ecstatic.

"Really? Oh thank you! I promise I'll do my best!" She jumped.

"Yeah...I'm sure you will. Only one hitch. You mentioned prior that you didn't know much about stealing. I'm in a bit of a quandary here. You see, I can't just let people who work for me run around the city if they're novices; eventually, they'd get caught, and then they might talk. About me. Ya get what I'm sayin'?" Gwevevere nodded. Her heart slumped within her chest. She knew where this was going. Or so she thought. "But, I can't just let a mage offering their services to walk away either, especially such an experienced one. So, I propose a deal. Consider it 'on the job training'." Basso leaned in closer, almost beckoning the lost soul before him.

"Alright. What kind of a deal is it?"

"I'll send you on some practice jobs with a good friend of mine. His name is Garrett. We go way back, him and I. No doubt he won't be particularly pleased about it, but if I offer him a big enough purse of coins, I'm sure he'll come around."

"But wait. Are you saying...that you'd be paying another thief to train me how to steal?"

"Sure, why not? Trust me kiddo, whatever I have to pay that stubborn bloke; it's worth it to get a mage." The shady man winked.


	2. Chapter 2

"No, no and NO!" Garrett barked, slamming his fist down onto the table. He wasn't usually a violent individual, and this was his first time expressing physical anger for quiet some time. He had good reason for it. What was Basso thinking?! The thief had always made it very clear that he worked alone, yet over the past few years, Basso had gotten the crazy idea into his head that Garrett needed a partner. With things only growing worse within the city, more and more rogues had found themselves in the shady man's services, and quite often, the seasoned Garrett was requested to team up with them in order to take in bigger, and more risky hauls. It was becoming more than a slight annoyance at this point. Garrett was more than capable of flying solo. He always had been.

"C'mon Garrett! For old time's sake!" The thief whirled around, his bi-colored eyes flashing in silent ferocity.

"I said no." He replied, very calmly. Basso exhaled a deep sigh, and spat a wad of chew into a nearby crate.

"You know Garrett, this girl may be the key to your biggest heist yet."

"Oh? And why is that?" He asked, unimpressed.

"Because...she's a Simmons!" Garrett's expression went from nonchalant, to utterly speechless. He stared at Basso with genuine confusion.

"Why the hell would a Simmons want to work with you?! Anyway, Basso, are you insane? What if she rats you out? What if she rats ME out?!"

"Relax Garrett, the gal's a responsibility-dodging scamp. She told me all she wants is her freedom; no noble would ever talk like that, because no noble would ever use their brains to ponder what they might be giving up for all that gold. I'm sorry, but in my eyes, that shows possibility."

"I shows, that you've made an even bigger mistake than usual, old man. I'm not training her. If she wants to steal things, let her do so on her own time; by herself." The thief huffed, and started for the door. Basso hesitated. He didn't want to hurt his mate, but he also knew that cunning manipulation might be the only way to win the day. He decided to take that gamble.

"Is it because of what happened. With Erin." Garrett stopped cold. His fingers tensed into uncomfortable curls. He softly lowered his head. Erin. She had been little more than a skeleton in rags when he had chanced upon her that cold autumn's eve. No older than six, the orphan had been half dead. To this day, he couldn't be sure what it was that had made him take pity on the girl, but perhaps it had been the own hopeless memories of his childhood. Garrett could still hear her frightened whimpers as she gawked up at the tall dark man standing over her. He could still feel her clammy, tiny fingers as she reached up and took his beckoning hand. He had trained her to steal, taken her under his wing as his one and only protegé. That child. His child. The closest thing the lone man would ever have to a family. And now she was dead. Because of him.

"Basso. You said that you wouldn't speak of that anymore..."

"I only bring it up because after what happened last year, you haven't been the same. You're passion for the job is gone. It's as if you're emotionlessly driven now. I'm starting to worry about you." He offered.

"Is that why you keep pairing me up with these no-names? You think I'm in need of 'friends'? Someone to buy me pint?" Garrett scoffed. Basso didn't miss a beat.

"Are you?" Garrett didn't offer a witty response this time. "What happened that night? Erin was headstrong, sure. She didn't listen to you worth a damn, but that was kinda expected, given her age. But the whole thing just seems so...odd." Basso pondered. The thief curled his fingers tighter, forming a fist. He held them like that for several moments, before releasing them with a defeated sigh.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"I was just trying to help. Speaking of which, maybe this, will 'help' persuade you to train Gwenevere..." With that, Basso threw a large, bulging coin purse in Garrett's direction. It landed squarely at his feet. The thief took a moment to study the sack, before picking it up. He didn't know which was more unbelievable; how much faith Basso was putting in this new girl, or how much he was paying him. Garrett tucked the coins away within the flap of his cloak. With a snarl, he locked eyes with his contact.

'Fine. I'll train her. Stay out of my business from now on." He retorted, and rushed out the door.

Gwenevere waited in the darkness. Basso had sent for her, informing her of when and where this Garrett would meet her. She was growing nervous. What kind of man would she be dealing with, and furthermore, would he really be able to train her? There was so much uncertainty now, so much fear. Gwenevere's future now lay in two distinct directions: Forward; into the life of a wily thief and vigilante. Or down; into the cruel and unending torments of the destitute. Either was a very real possibility. Because she could never go back home. Not after what she had done.

"So you're the girl Basso's in a fuss over." A smoky voice rang from behind her. Gwenevere jumped, and spun around. Before her stood a tall figure, draped in a light black hood. Stunning eyes flashed from beyond. Gwenevere gasped. This man had two eye colors! His left eye was a light brown, while his right was an inferno of silvery blue. The young woman had never seen such eyes before, and they fascinated her. "You're not very adept to your surroundings, if you didn't even hear me coming."

"Are you...Garrett?" She gasped, voice barely above a whisper.

"What if I'm not? How would you know the difference?" The thief pressed her. He was testing her wits, without her even knowing. Gwenevere pondered for a moment, before replying.

"I just assumed that...because you knew Basso..."

"Lot's of people know Basso, especially around here. That doesn't prove anything."

"Then, no. I'm not sure who you are." Gwenevere added meekly.

"Lesson one: Never make unnecessary assumptions. Lesson two: Never reveal anything unless directly asked. So far, I don't see much promise in you, Gwenevere." Garrett remarked with a growl.

"You know my name? So then you must be-" She stopped when the thief affixed his firm glare upon her. "-I mean...yes, I'm Gwenevere. And you are?"

"Turns out your little 'assumption' was correct. I am Garrett. Before we get started, let me just make myself very clear; I don't give a rat's ass about you. I'm only doing this because the old fool seems to think you have potential. He paid me a ridiculous sum to train you, and I'm not about to say no to that much coin. But from what I've seen of you thus far, Basso wasted his money." Garrett scoffed, looking the young woman up and down. Gwenevere was burnt by his harsh judgement of her, but she wasn't about to give up. She was speechless. The man before was staring at her, expecting her to do or say something. What does he want from me? Gwenevere pondered. She didn't wish to be rude, but the young woman found herself having a rather hard time tearing her line of vision from his eyes. Especially that ominous right eye. It seemed; supernatural. Gwenevere laughed inside. What were these ludicrous thoughts she was having?! Eyes were eyes; there was nothing mysterious or unexplained about them. She tried desperately to shake such fooleries away; but they just wouldn't go. His eyes now held her. Garrett cleared his throat, startling her.

"Care to tell me how a Simmons gets involved with a lowlife such as Basso?"

"Oh..you heard about that huh?"

"Tch, you can be assured that everyone down here has heard about that by now. You did tell Basso after all." The thief leaned forward, his hawk eyes digging deeper into her. "Mind telling the only one who's out of the loop here?"

"I-I ran away. My parents, they didn't approve of my-" Gwenevere began.

"Your what?" The young woman looked downward. She watched as a cockroach weaved in and out of the cracks in the cobblestone. Though she did not look up again, she knew that Garrett was still watching her. Waiting for an answer. Gwenevere took a deep breath, and focused her mind. She began to relax. Her heart rate began to plummet, her skin grew supple and moist. The sound around her began to fade. She could hear Garrett continuing to press her, but his voice was now a distant whisper. As she continued to exit reality, she felt the finale upon her. Her senses were confirmed when she heard the thief exclaim.

"What the?!" His confusion echoed into the far recesses of her mind. Gwenevere smiled, and opened her eyes. She watched as color and texture began to reknit, forming the darkness of the alleyway she was in. Garrett was before her, looking around anxiously. Gwenevere waltzed around to his back, reached out, and withdrew a single arrow from his quiver. Garrett spun around. He had felt the arrow as it slid out, but just who had taken it, he could not be certain. Until he saw Gwenevere reappear in front of him. She stood with a smug expression on her face, twirling the stolen arrow between her fingers.

"Invisibility spell." She shrugged nonchalantly. The thief fought to hide his astonishment.

"Nice trick." He remarked dryly. "I think I understand now, what the old codger sees in you. It's not everyday that a mage wants to become a thief." Gwenevere trotted up to him, and handed him back his arrow. Garrett took it, gripping the projectile with quiet disdain.

"So, did I...did I convince you to train me?" She asked, almost afraid of what his answer would be.

"Basso's gold did that." The thief sighed. He pulled down the fabric covering his nose and mouth. The stubble on his elongated face expanded slightly as his lips curved into a slight grin. "But now I know that it won't be a waste of my time."


	3. Chapter 3

Like a shadow on the darkened wall, Garrett made his way silently through the night. Basso had suggested taking the newest member of the family to the outskirts of Stonemart. There was supposedly a retired guard living there; and he had quite a trinket on his hands. A medal, the sort that were presented to all town guards upon their retirement, for their 'kind and loyal services' to the people. Garrett couldn't help but scoff at the notion. However, if said prize could be lifted, it was sure to fetch a good price. And if Gwenevere happened to fail her test, the thief promised himself that he would come back later, after the heat had died down, and take it for himself. He led her to Stonemart, and watched as she crept in and out of the alleyways, unnoticed by all. While she was awkward and clumsy, her invisibility spell did help immensely. But to the seasoned rogue, even with such powers, being light on ones feet was still of the utmost importance.

"What kind of an asset would she be to you Basso, if you knew how graceless she was on her feet?" He grumbled almost silently to himself. Magical or not, Garrett had a feeling that this girl was going to cause him trouble one day. When Gwenevere did eventually make her way to the alley where he was waiting, the thief jumped down from the scaffolding. The girl screamed in surprise, and Garrett involuntarily clasped a gloved hand around her gaping mouth. Gwenevere looked at him, and her breathing returned to normal as she realized who it was that held her. Those blue and hazel eyes were once again before her, burning with wild ambition.

"Never. Scream. No matter how fearful you become. There's seldom a better way to give away your position." He hissed in a low and serious tone. Sensing that he would only be angrier at her if she were to try and speak, Gwenevere simply nodded vigorously.

"Good. You understand. Now, about your 'stealth'..." Garrett began, still covering her lips. Gwenevere's soft green eyes were shimmering with trust and moonlight. "It's not very good. In fact; it's terrible. Lesson three: You cannot rely on crutches and single skills that make things 'easier' for you. They only end up holding you back. A true thief takes what they're given, and uses it to their advantage." Gwenevere nodded again, taking in each of the words he spoke.

"Now, the test that Basso had set up for you; it's in that house." He pointed up to a single, darkened window next to the scaffolding where he had been lurking moments earlier. "An old guard, named Demetre. He resides there. Recently, he was awarded a medal for his upstanding services to the people; you know, beating them and the like." He retracted his hand from his pupil's mouth, foul malice in his tone. Garrett stared at her noble face for a long while. The girl before him, was daughter of the Simmons family. If there were ever two things he despised, they were the aristocracy and magic. This girl, had both coursing through her veins. For the first time in his abundant career, Garrett was beginning to regret accepting Basso's payment. Initially, he had been impressed by Gwenevere's invisibility spell, and her ability to sneak up and grab his arrow whilst using it. But this had proven to be little more than a one-off, because for the remainder of the evening, Garrett had seen nothing more from her that marked her as 'thief material'.

"If you fail to steal this medal, you'll be forced to return to Basso empty-handed. And I'll be forced to pay him back. I'm sure that neither of us wants that, so be sure you don't come out of that place without the loot." He ordered. Gwenevere nodded again.

"I'll do my best, Garrett." She proclaimed.

"Just hope that your best is enough..." He scoffed. "After you've taken the medal, we'll rendezvous behind the clock tower. If you're not out of there in an hour, you're on your own. I'm sure your wealthy parents will be able to bail you out." He remarked dryly. Gwenevere tensed. Hadn't Garrett been listening to her? She had made it perfectly clear that she was no longer a Simmons, and that she could never return to her life of luxury.

"I told you, they-" She began.

"-Point is, if you taff this up, it will reflect badly on me." The thief finished her sentence. Gwenevere cleared her head and forced herself to smile.

"Then the answer is simple: I don't fail." And with that confident statement, the young woman faded into a translucent haze.

The door creaked slightly behind her as Gwenevere entered the home. It was a small penthouse, battered and worn. It was too dark for the young woman to make out most of the home, but moonlight shone through several of the windows, allowing her to navigate. As she proceeded around the dark room, her mind raced. What did this medal even look like? Why would Garrett send her without even telling her this? That's when Gwenevere remembered a sketchy detail about her lavish past life. Her family, namely, she and her father, had been present at several award ceremonies for retiring guards. The young apprentice then searched her mind for any recollection of these coveted medallions. And eventually, the image in question came to mind. A circular golden brooch, with silver leaves framing the crest of the baron. This was yet another test by her wizened mentor. Garrett had known, well in advance that Gwenevere would know what these medals looked like. He wanted her to fend for herself, by using her past as an advantage.

"I know what they look like now, but I still have to find where he keeps it." She spoke in a whisper. Invisibility at her disposal, Gwenevere followed the glimmer of the fireplace, and prepared to step inside. The blaze illuminated Demetre's slumbering face. He was slumped over in his chair, his mouth set into a firm frown. Heavy snoring accompanied the crackles and pops of the timber as it burned to ashes. Gwenevere's eyes sparkled. The guard had the medallion affixed to his shirt. She had found her quarry. Now, all she had to do was take it. Slinking ever closer, the girl reached out and pulled on her prize. The medal snapped off with ease, barely stirring the sleeping man. _I did it! _She mused. With one final look at her first victim, Gwenevere exited the dwelling.

Garrett was waiting for her behind the clock tower, just as discussed. He scoffed as his student reappeared before him. She held out the medal in her palm.

"Garrett look! I did it!" She proclaimed, glee and pride coating her every word.

"Did you remain invisible the entire time?" The thief asked, ignoring her triumph.

"Yes! Yes I did!" She replied, thinking that he was praising her efforts and talents. Her joy was cut short as the thief slowly shook his head.

"Then you haven't learned anything. What did I tell you about crutches? About using the enviroment to your advantage? You may think that your spells are enough to see you though, and apparently, so does Basso. But eventually, the tables WILL turn. And if all you're relying on is your ability to fade, you're gonna be a shit out of luck."

"I-" She began, unsure what to say to such harsh words. It seemed to Gwenevere that her new teacher despised her with a vengeance, although she couldn't be sure why.

"The lesson is over for this evening. I suggest you take that medal to Basso." Before Gwenevere could object, Garrett disappeared into the night.


	4. Chapter 4

Garrett stood. His feet made the floorboards of the clock tower squeak slightly under his weight as he walked over to the open window. The moon was bright that evening, although the city smog had snuffed out the delicate stars. The thief was even more silent than the expanse of sky before him. His eyes flashed in the secluded darkness of his domain. That kid. There was something...off about her. Why would a noble give up their standing; to do what he did? Although he had since come to enjoy and take great pride in his work, Garrett had not initially planned to do so. It wasn't as if he woke up one morning, and foolishly decided to throw away everything he had. He had very few memories of his childhood, and those he could recall were filled with a mixture of fear and hunger. If it hadn't been for the Keepers, he had his doubts as to whether or not he would have even survived. But that was a long time ago, and now the master thief was more than capable of fending for himself.

"And apparently babysitting. Thanks Basso." He grumbled. Leaning against the dusty walls of his domain, Garrett began to ponder again. Something out of the corner of his eye glistened. He turned his head, meeting the countless treasures and valuables he had hoarded over the years. Rare gems, exquisite pieces of jewelery, and even a few gold-plated city plaques. The thief scoffed silently to himself, his grin a barely visible crescent.

"I really have gotten greedy over the years." He muttered dryly, pulled free the bulging coin purse that Basso had given him. His long fingers fished in and removed a single gold coin. Garrett watched the glint of the coin as he toyed with it, guiding it over and under his slender digits. "What won't I do for a gold nowadays?" He flipped the gold in the air and caught it again. While he had never been the brightest of folk, Basso was being even more of an idiot than usual for wanting him to train this girl. Even if his insane plan worked; even if they did manage to talk Gwenevere into drawing out a map of her previous home, who was to say that she wouldn't end up double-crossing the both of them? She was a noble, and a mage; both of which were completely untrustworthy in Garrett's opinion. So much uncertainty and mystery surrounded that girl, and even one unanswered question was too much; especially when dealing with the infamous Simmons family. Being among one of the most influential of all the noble families, they were also rumored to be extremely close to the baron himself. Their manor was the second largest in the city; a practical palace. Only the baron's own Northcrest Manor managed to dwarf it by comparison. The master of the Simmons Manor, was Sir Vladimir Simmons. He had been a successful businessman long before he managed to befriend with the baron, and he had always loved the more cut-throated and under the table aspects of industry. He was a sadistic man, who delighted in making other people's lives difficult. A true monster by any sense of the word. It was far from fantasy and rumor that he employed both assassins and mercenaries legally; a loophole that only one of the baron's closest friends could ever hope to pull off. Simmons trained only the most skilled and intelligent of killers. These men and women had gone through rigorous tests and field trials, making certain that they where capable of "euthanizing" their victims as quickly, silently, and efficiently as possible. There where little rules other than that. The city had truly become a brutal place, but then again, it had never been the best place to live.

Garrett continued to gaze lazily up at the sky, bursting with the first drops of rain. What role did Master Simmon's daughter have to play in all this, if any?

Gwenevere reached the Crippled Burrick just after midnight. Basso was there, going through some old crates and barrels. He seemed very anxious.

"Um...Basso?" She called meekly. Gwenevere had always been shy, and it usually took her several meetings to warm up to someone. But this being a matter of her future, and possibly the continuation of her life, she was doing all she could to force herself to be comfortable. Basso shot up, nearly causing some loose pickle jars to clatter to the ground. He spun around, coming face to face with the young woman.

"Yeah? Did'ja meet up with Garrett?"

"I did."

"Ok...did ya get what I asked?" Gwenevere nodded, feeling quite proud of herself. "Well, let me see it then." He demanded, hope and excitement coating his words. Gwenevere searched the pockets of her dress, and produced the medal. Basso's eyes widened with glee.

"Excellent! Give it here!" He ordered. Reluctantly, Gwenevere did as she was bade. It felt a bit odd to be parting with her newly stolen prize. But this was what she had signed up for. This was what she had to do in order to secure her place amongst Garrett and Basso. So part with it, she did. Basso swiped the medal, and examined it carefully under the low light.

"Yes! Yes, this is definitely one of the baron's honorary medallions! This'll fetch a nice price indeed!" He murmured. Turning back to Gwenevere, he held out his free hand to her. "Great job kid, you've proved yourself useful. Stick with Garrett and I, and you'll be a master in no time." He gushed with praise. Gwenevere felt herself blush.

"Thank you..." Basso chuckled to himself, before looking around expectantly.

"You're a miracle worker Garrett!" He proclaimed, still laughing. His joy faded when he realized that his comrade was indeed, not there. "Garrett?" He turned his head. Upon receiving no response, Basso began to grow slightly agitated. He stomped past Gwenevere, and poked his head around the corner, into the dingy alleyway.

"Garrett!" He called again. But his only response was a few odd stares from three vagrants, huddled around a makeshift fire pit. Basso growled under his breath. "Damn it..." Turning back to Gwenevere, he exhaled a long sigh, trying to vent his frustration.

"Is...is something wrong?" She asked softly. Basso began to chuckle again at her innocent question.

"Is something wrong, she asks...is something wrong..." He sighed weakly. "Did Garrett come here with you?" Gwenevere shook his head.

"N-no Mr. Ba-"

"Just...Basso. No one's called me 'Mister' for who knows how long. It feels weird, ya know?" He smiled.

"Oh, ok. Basso." Gwenevere replied, taking a mental note.

"So, he just left ya hanging huh?" Basso crossed his arms, still smirking to hide his rage.

"Oh, it's ok! I don't mind. Garrett doesn't seem to like me very much." She smiled sheepishly. Basso lit up again with more uncomfortable laughter.

"Doesn't like-" He shook his head. "You know what kid?" Basso began, pointing a finger at the young mage. "I'm gonna go and have a talk with him right now." Before she could protest, Basso stormed out of his hovel, leaving a very confused Gwenevere behind to ponder just what she had witnessed.

"Oh my! He seemed upset, I hope it wasn't something I said..."

Garrett was just getting ready to turn in, when the sound of feathers flapping caught his ears. He waltzed over to the window of the clock tower, to find a small magpie waiting for him.

"Jenivere..." Garrett remarked. As if on que, the bird dropped a small red brick fragment upon the window ledge. Garrett gingerly retrieved the stone. He knew exactly what it was. As to what had been scribbled upon it; he could never have guessed. Jenivere gave a single caw, before taking flight. Garrett examined the crude message:

Garrett,

I need to speak to you at once. It's about the girl.

Come to the Crippled Burrick immediately.

PS: THAT MEANS TONIGHT!

Garrett threw the stone down into the pile containing all the other messages he'd received from Basso over the years. He grunted, as he struggled to redress. Gwenevere again. She WAS proving to be more trouble than she was worth, as he had first suspected.

"I should have known better. No one in my line of work ever gets handed a heavy sack of coin without a huge catch."


	5. Chapter 5

"Alright Basso, this better be important." Garrett leaned quietly against the wall, crossing his arms. He and Basso were outside the Crippled Burrick, and unbeknownst to the thief, his newest 'sidekick' was still waiting inside the hovel. Basso wasted no time in getting right to the point.

"What the hell were you thinking, leaving Gwenevere alone in the middle of town like that?!"

He barked. Garrett stared into his enraged expression, and blinked.

"Why is that such a problem? You paid me to train her, not put her on a leash and take her with me wherever I go."

"That, is exactly what I paid you for Garrett!" Basso continued. Garrett's relaxed posture tensed.

"Basso I hope you're joking." He replied. But when the boxman continued to glower at him with the same intense expression, Garrett grew from unsure to uneasy. Finally, in a voice no higher than a whisper, the dark thief lowered his gaze. It returned again, and the wild embers of that right eye began to bore deeply into Basso's soul.

"No." He growled. Basso took a deep breath, and then held out his hand.

"Right then. Give me back my gold."

"This was your mistake. It's mine now." Garrett straightened his posture. Basso managed a weak chorale.

"That's what I thought you'd say." He shook his head. Thinking he had won, Garrett started away, a simple smile appearing on his worn face. "That's why I took the liberty of making this easier on you. Gwenevere!" The lowlife called. Garrett stopped in his tracks and turned around. The auburn-haired woman appeared before him, her spell concluding.

"You have her spying on me now?"

"Not spying; just, listening in." Basso replied. He glanced at Gwenevere. Her eyes were affixed upon her teacher, as if awaiting his next words. Garrett merely turned around again.

"I'm not playing along this time, Basso."

"Aww, come on Garrett, have a heart! The kid says you don't seem to like her very much."

"Apparently she can read minds too. And I thought invisibility was impressive." Garrett scoffed.

"Why don't you like me Garrett?" Gwenevere blurted. Both men turned and stared on her. The thief turned, his cloak making a whip-like crack as it slapped against his leather outfit. Garrett took an intimidating step between his old friend, and this girl. This spoiled little rich kid, who had absolutely no business dwelling in his domain.

"Why don't I like you?!" His voice was neither a shout nor sarcastic in tone. It was level, and dead serious. He took another step. Basso's jaw dropped open, and he gaped at the scene before him. This was NOT going to be pleasant.

"Um...okay. Well, it looks like you two are gonna go ahead and get everything worked out between the both of you, so..." He began to creep off towards the tavern. "I'm gonna go and-"

"Stay Basso. You need to hear this." Garrett interrupted, never letting his locked gaze leave Gwenevere. "So you never make this mistake again." Basso froze in his tracks, and let his posture slag slightly.

"Garrett. Do you really think that all of this is necessary?" He offered." I mean, she's just a-"

"The reason that I dislike you, is because I have always hated those with false objectives. This life is hard enough to get through, without having to deal with pretenders. Like yourself." He sneered. Gwenevere leapt back, bringing her hand to her palpitating chest in shock. Basso began again, but quickly decided against it. Garrett was not the sort who would listen to reason. He never had been. "I don't like the thought of spending my time with a Simmons. I'm a very wanted man you know. I don't need this kind of trouble."

"But Garrett. I'm not a Simmons any-"

"Look, you can stop playing at that. I know you're type. Arrogant little hand-fed brats get it in their head, for one selfish reason or another, that your perfect life is either a little too perfect, or more likely; not perfect enough. So you run away. They try and see what it would be like to be a 'normal' and 'hard-working' person for once." His right eye continued to blaze as he lectured her. "But what you don't realize, is that it's already part of you. It's in you. It's all you know. And sooner or later, because of this, you'll return to your lavish little castle, and all this will be nothing more than a foolish mistake. You can no sooner stop being a spoiled brat, than I can stop being what I am. A master thief."

"But I-" Gwenevere began again. Garrett was having none of it. Excuses. Empty promises. That had been all he had seen from this girl.

"You're way out of your element down here in the slums. If it weren't for Basso, I wouldn't even be here talking to you. Without Basso and I, you wouldn't even know where to begin as a thief. You're nothing but a mediocre little-"

"I HAVE STOLEN BEFORE!" The young woman roared, startling both men. She fumed, her body rising and falling with every overheated breath she took.

"What? Why didn't ya mention this to me sooner then kid?" Basso inquired.

"Because she's full of shit, that's why. She's making the entire thing up. I've seen her Basso, she's about as light on her feet as a charging rhinoceros. Without her invisibility, she'd be caught in a second." Garrett growled dryly.

"That's not true! If you would just shut your mouth and open your taffin' ears for one second..." Gwenevere cursed, still full of fire. When she was sure that both men where listening to her, she continued. "I stole from my parents, alright? It's the only thing I ever did against them. This may sound utterly crazy to street-hardened criminals like you lot, but I loved them."

"Hey now! Let's not say things that we're gonna regret later!" Basso cried, falsely offended. Although he was enjoying this newfound bite from the young, unsuspecting woman.

"Why did you steal from them?" Garrett spoke up, the tiniest interest budding within his head. Gwenevere released a deep sigh.

"I can't tell you. You'd both laugh in my face." She looked up, meeting Garrett's gaze with an extremely nasty glare. "Especially YOU." The thief was unsure how to respond to this new thread of information, not to mention Gwenevere's sudden sharp change in attitude.

"Is that why you say you can't go back?" Basso asked.

"Yes...I got caught."

"That doesn't surprise me." Garrett mused.

"Garrett! Honestly!" Basso quipped. The boxman was starting to take a shining to this girl. It was indeed true that she was out of her element, and from what Garrett had told him, completely unskilled. But she had moxie, and determination. Both of which were quite sparce amongst the uppercrust. And Basso appreciated it. Then, Garrett asked the fateful question.

"What did you steal?" Gwenevere managed to calm down profusely, somehow. She relaxed her body, and growing strangely confident, she emitted a light chuckle.

"Objectwise; one very rare jewel. But monetary wise; enough to feed a hundred people for life." This new bit of information sparked Basso's interest even further. His mind was practically salivating now. If one of the Simmons family treasures was worth so much; what of the rest of them? It was settled. Like it or not, Garrett had to remain with this girl.

"Listen sweetheart, Garrett and I need to discuss something in private."

"We do?" The thief looked over his shoulder.

"Come on, it'll only take a minute!" Basso whispered through his teeth, pushing Garrett inside.

Garrett stroked the Jenivere's glistening feathers, whilst the magpie pecked at a bit of stale bread in his hand. Basso was pacing again, as he often did when he had a lot to say, but was unsure how to go about it. He finally stopped, and rubbed his aching temples. Garrett eyed him warily.

"Do you want to know why I was so miffed earlier; about you leaving Gwenevere alone?"

"Would be nice."

"The guards Garrett, the guards. I don't care what she says about not being able to go home. Personally, I think the dame's a bit on the 'dramatic' side. If the guards see her..." He began, unnerved. "Her family has no doubt put out posters, rewards and the like. They'll snatch her right up, and take her back to them."

"Gee Basso. I never saw you as the fatherly type." Garrett joked.

"It isn't about that Garrett! She's seen both of us, met and fraternized with two very wanted men! If she were to leak that sort of information to her parents, or the guards for that matter..." He shuddered.

"Precisely! This is exactly why I want nothing to do with her!" Jevivere cawed and took flight at the thief's harsh tone. She landed atop her perch beside Basso.

"Look, I know she's a greenhorn. But she's also a mage Garrett. You of all people know how rare magic has grown within our world. Imagine a budding mage, working for us! She could become an invaluable asset in time. That's why I've been giving her so much slack." He sighed, leaning forward over his desk. He rubbed his weary head. "Look, Garrett. Neither of us are young men anymore. If we're gonna survive in this town, then we're gonna need all the help we can get."

"I don't need any help Basso. I never have."

"Would your younger self agree with you?" Garrett turned away. Basso grinned, knowing that he had his mates attention. "You ever hear of the Way of the Saivor?" Basso asked.

"No, what of it? If this is anything like the Keepers, I'm not much for group activities anymore. You know this."

"Naw, naw. It's a way of thinking. I read it in a book once."

"I would have never guessed you an avid reader."

"Ha-ha, very funny! Anyways, the Way of the Savior states that if someone saved your hide, then you become indebted to them for life. And, in the case that they die, then you begin helping others who match your state of need when that person first helped you."

"So? I'm not really an honor-bound guy Basso."

"Alright, alright. If you won't do it for honor, do it as a favor." Basso pleaded, his voice strangely solemn. Garrett looked at him. "I see promise in her. My gut tells me that she's gonna do great things. For both of us." Garrett held his breath, and then groaned.

"Alright Basso. I'll keep her out of trouble." As he turned to exit the hovel, he halted and called back. "You owe me." Basso chuckled as he watched him leave.

"I wouldn't have it any other way, my friend."


	6. Chapter 6

Garrett ran his hands over the heat of the fire pit, trying his best to wait out the hours. Gwenevere was with him now, and she sat on the opposite side of the small room, eagerly waiting for him to speak to her. Garrett's eyes grew dark. The girl could wait all she wanted; he wasn't about to acknowledge her presence. He was doing what he'd agreed to do, what he'd been paid to do. Nothing more.

"Garrett?" Gwenevere finally broke the silence. The thief did not respond. "Garrett!" The young woman tried again. This time, Garrett answered her with an annoyed grunt. Gwenevere tried again.

"Hey Garrett!"

"What?!" He snarled, his eyes ablaze. Cowering meekly at his sudden outburst, Gwenevere spoke.

"So, how long have you been doing this sort of thing?"

"What? Housing ignorant little rich kids? This would be a first." He sneered.

"Oh come on. Don't be like that! You knew what I meant!" She encouraged.

"And what if I don't?"

"Okay then, fine." Gwenevere rolled her eyes. "How long have you been stealing stuff?" Garrett pondered this question, unsure if he really wanted to answer it. He hadn't been like Gwenevere. He hadn't run away from a warm and comfortable life out of rebellion. Stealing, for him, was all he had. It had kept him from deaths door when he was but a pick-pocketing orphan, and it had housed and fed him when he had lived under his greedy landlord. Garrett eyed the young woman pensively, feeling more disdain for her then usual.

"I steal to survive. I have always done what I needed to, nothing more." Gwenevere looked around, examining the inside of the dusty clock tower. She crooked a brilliant red eyebrow in utter confusion.

"But...you live here now. Surely the city doesn't rent out the clock tower." From her tone, Garrett wasn't sure if she was being sarcastic, or completely naive. In his opinion however, it sounded much more like the latter.

"Don't get cute." He scoffed dryly.

"Was I? What did I say that was so cute?" Gwenevere inquired. The thief shook his head, and resumed his attention towards the fire pit. He wasn't going to enjoy this, and yet, he had to endure it. He had done worse things as "favors" for Basso, always with the background thought that the boxman would end up having to repay him. A favor for a favor. It was about the only honor code people in his line of work had.

As the flames cracked and danced, devouring the sparse bits of charcoal and paper, Garrett began to wonder if he truly needed an extra favor. His instincts had only sharpened over the years, and he rarely required anyone's assistance anymore; even for maps or information these days. The city watch had gotten more and more tactless, and due to their constant gossiping, Garrett tended to stumble upon said information quite easily these days.

"Garrett!" The girl called again, pulling him once again from his personal thoughts. The thief had a sinking premonition that this was going to be happening a lot.

"What is it now?" He groaned with utmost annoyance.

"You didn't answer my question."

"I know."

"Why not?"

"I don't want to." Gwenevere crossed her arms and pouted.

"Fine. Then I'm not going to tell you anything about me either!"

"Works for me. Keep that trap of yours closed and maybe you'll learn something from me. The sooner you learn how to steal correctly, the sooner I can have my tower back." Gwenevere frowned. She turned her head, the fire illuminating her ruby hair in a soft orange glow. She began to examine the room she was in. There were two floors in her hosts domain, and she was sitting halfway down the steps. From here, Garrett was above, towering over her like a solemn statue in the night. From what little first impressions the place gave, she could tell that the tower was well lived in. There was a filthy mattress practically thrown into the corner of the room, and several broken barrels and crates lying nearby. About the only part of the room that wasn't in a state of decay, was the bright area to her right. There were several display cases, each housing rare and beautiful treasures. One in particular, an elegant yet simple bronze ring caught Gwenevere's eye. She would never have even noticed such a mundane trinket, had it not been situated on its own pedestal in the very heart of the thief's collection.

"You certainly take great pride in your work, regardless of why you do it Garrett." She commented. He didn't bother to answer her this time. So instead, the young woman began to watch him. His bi-colored eyes held a serious, almost saddened expression. She began to observe his every motion with utmost interest. Why would one as skilled and wise as this man choose to live in a dilapidated tower? Had something terrible happened to him; or had he always been this way? Although Garrett acted content within his realm, within his lifestyle; although he seemed to treat all others with aloof and distanced contempt; Gwenevere was certain that there was a very good reason as to why. And she was going to find out.

*******************************************

As the hours waned on, Garrett chanced a peek at his forced protegé. Gwenevere was still situated near the bend in the stairway. The young woman appeared to be falling asleep, her head slouching to just above her breasts. Reluctantly, the thief crept silently towards her. Garrett edged closer, trying to judge if the girl had anything of value on her.

"The least she could do is pay me for my lessons." He murmured. As he got ever closer, he could indeed tell that she was now lost within the grips of slumber. Garrett crouched down before her, that supernatural right eye taking in the lost princess before him. Her breathing was shallow as she slept, her red hair falling down both sides of her smooth face like a waterfall of blood. Her thick eyelashes fluttered slightly as she continued her personal soujern through the land of dreams, her full lips emitting a gentle, warm breath. Her body slid further down the wall, until finally, Gwenevere muttered something and rolled onto her side. Once she had resumed slumber, Garrett came even closer. He was beginning to, for whatever reason, grow curious about her. Much like Basso had pointed out, she was a mage, and magic was all but gone within the world. As much as the thief refused to admit it, Gwenevere herself, was a rare treasure. But as Garrett already knew, all too well; treasures could be very dangerous things. He had learned long ago to never trust those who possessed supernatural abilities and skills. Said beings were dangerous, and even a Master Thief should not trifle with them.

"Why are you here? You never answered my question either. But then again, I never asked you openly, now did I?" Her outfit was rather ostentatious; a navy blue corset with silver trim around the breasts, and a very short skirt that barely covered her thighs. Under the confines of the lengthy cape that she always wore, he had never even noticed. The sight of her exposed, pale flesh almost caused him to laugh again.

"You look more like a harlot than a thief. I wonder if that's the real reason Basso's taken such a shining to you." Gwenevere continued to hum within her dreams, completely unaware of Garrett's presence; or his critical analysis of her outfit. However, amusement was not the only feeling that the young woman's scantily clad body administered. Garrett suddenly felt his pulse quicken, and his body tensed. Immediately and almost instinctively, he reached for and draped her long blue cloak over her body. Gwenevere muttered something again, but then resumed her rest. The thief stood, and dusted himself off. It had been a very long time since he had seen that much of a woman, and such urges could not be avoided. He tiptoed around her and dashed to the confines of his own bed. Garrett had always associated feelings for someone with getting caught, and truth be told, in the event that he did indeed develop feelings for a Simmons, he would not only be caught; he would be hung.

"That's not about to happen. It was just a one-off. Anyways, in the event that she does stir me up again, there are plenty of dockfrocks and peasant girls out there looking specifically for a "bad" man like me. I've been there before. I'm not about to lose my life over a trivial urge." He blew out the single candle nearest his bed. In the silence of midnight, the thief's eyes gleamed.

"What ARE you doing here?"


	7. Chapter 7

As the hours waned on, Garrett remained restless. He wasn't accustomed to sleeping in the evenings anymore. The night was his; to plunder his riches, and race along the rooftops. It had always been so, for as long as the aging thief could remember...

********************************************

_ A young boy sat hunched over against the cold city wall. He was no stranger to suffering; hunger, fear, and discomfort were all he had ever known. His body shivered as he felt the icy rain pelt through his ragged clothing, igniting a fire within his fresh wounds. The boy clenched his shoulder in agony, grinding his teeth. The sudden pressure caused the injury to reopen slightly, prompting him to moan as a fresh stream of dark crimson erupted from his palm. _

_"Those damned Hammers..." The youth cursed. Why did they have to be so harsh with him? Couldn't they see that he was dying of starvation? Didn't they even care that a child's blood could have been on their hands, had the lad failed in evading their brutal onslaught? A rare smile graced his lips, although it was far from contented. _

_...No, of course they didn't. No one cares for me. I'm on my own..._

_ His thoughts were torn from him as his empty stomach began to protest again. The deep and cramping pains nearly caused the boy to recoil into a ball of misery. Only the slash to his shoulder and upper back kept him upright. Those injuries hurt far worse, and the youth did not wish to aggravate them by shifting his position. Through hazy, hungry brown eyes, the boy watched the procession before him. It seemed that the entire village was bustling that day; a dead city, ironically full of life. _

_Suddenly, a dark figure caught his eye. A tall, intimidating man was making his way through the chaos, seemingly avoided by all. The boy scrambled to his feet as he noticed the hooded figure coming his way. _

_Perhaps..._

_ With as much guile and determination as he could muster in his weakened state, the young pickpocket trailed the stranger as he entered a dark alleyway, and prepared to make his move. Just when he was within mere inches of what he could clearly identify as a bulging coin purse, the boy reached out. But instead of a copious sack of gold, rough leather found his hand. The man's gloved fingers tightened around the boy, and the terrified child fought desperately to retract his extremity. But it was now firmly within his quarry's grasp. With a mouthful of cold terror, he looked up, and met the eyes of his captor. The man's own optics were firm and frightening; yet also strangely inquisitive. His lips parted, and one simple sentence flowed forth:_

_ "That's not for you." Struggling even harder to free himself, the lad cried out._

_"Please sir, I'm hungry!" He begged. "Please don't report me to the Hammers!"_

_"It takes great skill to sneak up on a Keeper; especially one who does not wish to be seen." The man continued, an impressed smile replacing his strict expression. "What is your name?" For a second, the boy stopped struggling. He gulped down his tension, and readied himself for whatever was to transpire. He was on his own now; he had to be brave. With a final breath of forced courage, he uttered one word._

_"Garrett."_

**************************************

"Garrett! Garrett, wake up!" The thief's dream faded from conciousness, as the harsh light of morning found him. His eye focused, and the smiling face of Gwenevere came into view. The young woman nearly gasped when she noticed the gaping, lifeless hollow staring back at her from where his right eye should have been. That icy blue eye...it was false. Garrett noticed her stares and abruptly turned away. He wasn't used to anyone seeing him without his eye; not to mention the fact that he was practically nude underneath the thin bedsheet. Rolling over on his mattress, the agitated thief clutched the sheets tighter around his body, and muttered under his breath. "Garrett, I...I brought you breakfast." She offered, sensing his embarrassment.

"I sleep during the day, alright? Take your charity elsewhere."

"But, I stole it..." She coaxed, once again trying to befriend her new mentor.

"Using your invisibility again, no doubt. A good thief strikes at night, kid." Gwenevere was growing used to his harsh treatment of her by now, and she wasn't about to take no for an answer. It was about more than survival now. It was an oddessy of interest. Garrett had fascinated her practically since she had met up with him, and Gwenevere wanted to know more about him. She decided to try a different approach. Crossing her arms in defiance, the young woman scoffed.

"Well that's funny. The other night you told me that a 'good' thief should remain undetected at all times." Her unexpected quip caught Garrett's ears.

Using my own words against me eh? That's pretty slick of you, kid. He thought.

It was the truth, although he didn't like admitting it to himself. Reaching over to the lockbox he kept beside his mattress, Garrett opened the metal lid with a creak, and produced his mechanical eye. He polished the object between the folds of his sheets lovingly, and popped it into the barren socket.

"All right." He groaned as he forced himself to a sit. "What did you steal?"

"Bread."

"Very original."

"Listen, do you want some or not?" Gwenevere snapped. Garrett blinked. Who was this girl? She could go from meek and innocent, to brash and bold within moments. Simmons or not, there was certainly a story there.

"I'll take a slice, but then I'm going right back to sleep. I suggest you do the same. We've got a busy night of training ahead of us."

"Really?!" Gwenevere inquired with excitement, producing the stolen loaf. She pointed her index finger out, and a beam of light green energy sprung from her long nail. The beam made contact with the bread, slicing effortlessly through it. Garrett watched her with a bemused expression.

"Ever hear of using a knife?"

"I don't have one." She replied, her sweet voice laced with naivety. Garrett scoffed, shaking his head as she passed him the slice. It was still warm from her spell.

"Never mind."

*******************************

As they sat and ate in silence, Gwenevere once again surveyed her surroundings. The clock tower was even more dismal during the day. At least in the darkness of night, the young woman hadn't been able to see the dead rats and ravens scattered amidst the corners. Clouds of dust danced in the sunbeams like a fine pollen, and the beams of the vaulted ceiling were decorated in intricate cobwebs.

"I suppose you don't belive in cleaning, huh?" She joked. Garrett shot her a knowing glare. Gwenevere finished her breakfast and looked down at her velvety blue pumps. It had begun to occur to her, that she was dressed nothing like the people she had since met since coming here. Both Basso and Garrett dressed in considerably darker materials than she, and with little to no attention to fashion or flair. An innocent Gwenevere wondered why this was.

"So, you said that I had training tonight? What am I going to be doing?"

"Nothing much. Basso wants me to meet a recent contact of his, and I want you to accompany me. In case you haven't noticed, I'm not much of a 'people person'. If I have to suffer through a meeting with one of his mates, then so do you. Besides, I'm apparently not supposed to leave you alone anymore." The thief grumbled.

"I love meeting new people!" Gwenevere blurted. Garrett just stared at her again. "Urm, I mean..."

"This little trek will also be great for your training. You desperately need to work on your stealth. So tonight, I want you to try and keep up with me; without using your invisibility, or any other magic for that matter." Gwenevere gulped down tension. She wasn't sure that she was up to that. But for her teacher's sake; nay, for her own sake, she had to try.

"I'll give it my best Garrett!"

"Do you know what might help?" The thief offered.

"No, what?" Gwenevere grew jovial upon hearing what she perceived, as upcoming friendly advice.

"Dressing like an actual thief, instead of a bloody whore." He replied, matter-of-factly. Gwenevere's eyes flew open and she violently backed away. She wasn't offended by the comment, but rather shocked. She hadn't been exposed to much as far as the lower classes were concerned. She had no idea what her showy outfit had been suggesting about her!

"I...I thought this was how the beautiful women of your class dressed..." She explained. Garrett crooked an eyebrow.

"My...class?"

"Why yes! I mean, sure. I have seen women dressed in other outfits as well." She recalled the dark brown pauper dresses that most of the women in the city wore. But Gwenevere had always the hated drab, ugly colors of their frocks. "But when I ran away, I wanted to look my best. My father used to take me into the city, to a place called, Blossom...something?"

"The House of Blossoms?" Garrett corrected. He wasn't entirely sure if he was comfortable with where this conversation was going.

"Yes! That's the place!" The young woman smiled gaily. "I was small, and I don't remember much about it. Father would always leave me in the care of some of the beautiful women there, and go off with...Sondra, I think her name was."

"He allowed prostitutes to watch over you while he...worked." Garrett remarked. He had been right. He WASN'T comfortable with this conversation. He looked over the young Simmons before him. If her own father had treated her with such careless neglect, it would make a bit more sense as to why she would want to run away.

"Oh, no. Hazel and Elizabeth weren't..." Garrett waited for her innocent mind to play catch up, and eventually, Gwenevere flushed a brilliant red at the realization. "But...they were always so nice to me! They would let me wear their make-up and dress up in their clothes. It wasn't so bad, although their perfume always used to make me sneeze." Gwenevere reminisced, feeling both embarrassed and ashamed. "I suppose that's why I chose to dress like them, when I tried to disguise myself as a commoner. I always thought that they were so pretty..."

"Apparently, so did your old man." Garrett scoffed dryly. Gwenevere shot him a nasty glare.

"You could have told me sooner, how I looked I mean..."

"I only mentioned it because I don't want you giving away your position out there." Garrett stretched. "Basso would kill me if the watch happened to spot you; after all, I'm apparently your keeper now." A sudden jolt gripped his chest at the unexpected words that had just left his lips.

Her keeper? Keeper. And I always thought that bad puns were Basso's thing...

Noticing Gwenevere's odd expression, the thief stretched out atop his mattress.

"Since you're so wakeful, make yourself useful and go check inside that chest over there." He pointed lazily.

"Ok. What's in it?"

"Something to keep you from getting us both caught."


	8. Chapter 8

Gwenevere traced the seams of her new outfit. Though she couldn't be sure with the lack of mirrors within the clock tower, she was certain that she looked utterly ridiculous. The leather outfit was warm, and clung lovingly to her curvaceous form. Although it was a little loose on her in places, being a male's ensemble. For a long while, she pondered whether or not she should really wear such a thing. But Garrett had said that it would help her blend in to her surroundings better, and she certainly didn't want to disappoint him. Gwenevere finally sat back down atop her place on the stairway. She glanced over at Garrett. The thief was still resting, his snoring barely audible amidst the loud cranking of gears and the haunting wind that echoed throughout the empty rafters of the tower. Thinking back on it, the young woman wondered how she had been able to find sleep in such a place; or rather how her mentor had been sleeping here for years. At least, she assumed it had been years. Gwenevere really didn't know much of anything about Garrett, and it seemed to her that he intended to keep it that way.

She began tracing the seams on her pantleg, wondering when he would awaken. She had never been very good at entertaining herself, and was often bored as a result. I should probably try to sleep during the day next time, like Garrett. That way, I won't be bored and lonely. She told herself. It would be quite an adjustment, but one that she had to make. If her mentor wasn't there to teach her anything, staying awake at normal hours seemed a moot point.

"And besides, I'm not normal anymore." She whispered softly. "Not that I ever was..."

As the day waned on, the young woman struggled to resist the urge to wake her host. She had never sat idly by for so long before! Back at the Simmon's Manor, there was always something to do, someone to entertain her. But now; now she had to adapt, and make her own fun. Reflecting back on her life at the manor caused a bittersweet feeling to envelop her heart. She had been so innocent at first! While Garrett constantly judged her according to her past, never letting her forget that she was indeed, wealthy; the truth of the matter, was that Gwenevere had learned long ago that she was nothing special. She closed her eyes and began to smile. At least not in terms of hierarchy or wealth.

Gwenevere had very vivid recollections of her mother, despite the fact that she had died when the young woman was only two years old. After her mother's passing, which, Gwenevere had always been told, was a suicide; her father had taken it upon himself to finish raising her. But rather than out of parental affection; he had done so out fo duty. Out of a selfish, and unbridled lust for her power. For as long as she could remember, that strange power had always flowed through her. And it was a power that Sir Vladimir Simmons hoped to one day harness; whatever the cost. Perhaps that was the reason she had initially begun using her powers to help others. Her mother had always been a lover of nature, and of life. Gwenevere, was very much the same way. She wanted to help those less fortunate than herself, she wanted to change things. But with her father around, that simply wasn't a possibility. Within her life of luxury, Gwenevere's existence was confined to a prison of chains and darkness. A hidden dungeon which had only gotten drearier after her failed attempt to help...him.

"A lot of good your help did. Now he's dead because of you." Gwenevere's voice quaked, and she silently broke down. A pair of lone ravens were the only souls to witness her weeping.

Or were they?

*******************************

The busy day faded into a chilly and foggy night. Making final preparations, Garrett finished sharpening the last of his arrows for departure. Gwenevere hadn't moved from her spot on the stairs, and she watched him work with absorbent eyes.

"So who is this person? Basso's mate, I mean." She decided to try and make conversation.

"How should I know? All he told me was that we were to meet him tonight."

"But...I thought you said that you recently stole something for him." Gwenevere asked, confused.

"I did."

"You steal things for people without knowing them, OR what they're going to use said items for?" She cocked her head. "My, that seems a bit reckless of you."

"I steal, so that I can get paid. Nothing more, nothing less." Garrett sneered. "I'd like to hear a better reason."

"How about to help those less fortunate than yourself?" Garrett glowered down at her, in a bemused fashion.

"Odd words coming from a little rich girl."

"That's what I did. That's why I stole that gem I told you and Basso about. To help a friend of mine."

"Seems like there's more to that story than you're telling, Gwenevere."

"There is. But why should I tell you about myself when you're so blunt and vague when I ask you questions." She retorted, acting coy. Garrett placed the last of his arrows into the black leather quiver.

"Now you're getting it. A good thief never gets involved with other people's problems. Getting involved leads to empathy. And feelings can get you into a lot of trouble." He slung the quiver over his back, and fastened the belt across his chest. "Lesson four: Be detached, and never take a job that's either sentimental, or personal." He pulled the black cotton mask up over his mouth and nose. Gwenevere stood. It was time to go. Garrett gave her new outfit a once-over. She was wearing an old leather uniform of his, and while he regretted to lend her such a nostalgic piece of his legacy, it was better then getting them both spotted on account of that ostentatious blue tramp skirt of hers. The leather clung to her bosoms and thighs, remaining rather loose in all other areas. Gwenevere had also pulled her long hair back into a crude bun, strands of auburn falling messily down the sides of her face. She looked up at him, with nervous green eyes. From behind the confines of his mask, the thief actually smiled.

"That looks much better." He commented, his voice muffled. "Lesson five: Dark colors tend to attract less attention at night. Remember what I told you earlier about blending into your surroundings? This will help tremendously. But we still really need to work on your stealth and agility. Understood?" His eyes focused on her intent expression. So that was why Basso and Garrett wore such dark clothing! When she had first come to the slums, she had known so very little. But now, under Garrett's firm yet wise guidance, she was beginning to slowly understand what it took to survive down here. Gwenevere nodded gleefully.

"Understood!" She agreed.

"Good. Then let's go."

**********************************************

Basso was waiting for them outside of the Crippled Burrick when they arrived. He smiled at Gwenevere, holding out his arms.

"Hey, there's my gal! Nice outfit you've got on, I liked your other one better though." He winked. Gwenevere smiled, completely missing the hint of flirtation.

"Oh thanks, but Garrett says that I should try to look more like a thief and less like a lady of the evening. Which, I don't get. Don't thieves come out at night anyway?" She cocked her head. Basso gaped and he burst out into a dirty chuckle.

"They're not the only ones kiddo." Leaning over, he gave Garrett a bemused look. "Did you really say that?!" Garrett remained stationary, although Gwenevere was sure she heard him groan under his breath.

"I'm learning a lot from Garrett actually! Pretty soon, I'll be able to steal all on my own!" She proclaimed.

"Don't count on it..." Garrett murmured. The boxman began to chuckle.

"By the way, I have a personal assignment for you."

"Oh?" Gwenevere asked.

"Try to teach this taffer a thing or two about humor, huh?" Basso nudged his companion. Garrett was not amused.

"Alright Basso, who is this guy and why does he want to meet me?" Garrett interrupted impatiently. Basso turned and looked at him.

"Perhaps its your cheerful personality."

"Be serious Basso, I'm not here to make nice with strangers." The thief pointed to Gwenevere. "You already forced me to do that once. Never again."

"Alright, alright. Sheesh!" Basso began walking, Garrett and Gwenevere trailing behind. "Why don'tcha just ask him yerself?" He stopped short in front of a splintered wooden door. Turning around, he looked Gwenevere up and down.

"Erm..."

"What is it?" She asked.

"Garrett. Could you maybe let the little lady borrow your cloak? We don't need people recognizing her down here. Could be trouble." Garrett sighed, and reluctantly removed his cloak. Passing it to Gwenevere, the young woman affixed the hood over her head, allowing the remaining black material to taper down her body. Basso stepped back, nodding approval. "Yeah, that'll do. Just keep your face hidden and let uncle Basso, do all the talking." He grinned.

"Can we just get this over with? I still don't see the point of all this." Garrett grumbled. Basso pointed a dirty finger, giving the thief a stern look.

"You will. This could be a very lucrative opportunity, so please, I'm beggin' ya Garrett; try to be less...you. And more like Gwen here! We need this." Without waiting for his mate to reply, Basso pounded upon the strange door. A slit in the top opened, and a shady-looking man appeared within. The man looked warily from Basso to Garrett, and then, the door clicked open.

*********************************

"Basso." A proud yet mild voice called out as soon as the party had entered. Gwenevere looked up to see a middle-aged man with a short beard walking towards them. Her heart nearly stopped. She knew him. But the question remained; would he recognize her?

"Orion! I brought Garrett, just as you asked." Basso remarked. The man, known as Orion, nodded at the thief.

"Garrett." That's when he noticed Gwenevere. The young woman struggled frantically to keep her face hidden from him. "Oh? Who's this then?" The man walked closer, and peered into the darkness that concealed her face. Mystical green and yellow eyes met his, and even as she turned away, Gwenevere knew that it was already far too late. Orion had seen her face.

"Oh, yes! Allow me to introduce..." Basso thought for a second, and a spark of inspiration hit him. "My cousin's mute daughter, Bethany!" Garrett shook his head, rubbing his temples. Orion smirked.

"Well met, lady Bethany." He bowed. Gwenevere still refused to look at him. "Family is very important. Very important."

"So, am I getting paid for this?" Garrett finally spoke up.

"Shhh! Garrett!" Basso shushed him. Orion's eyes widened.

"My apologies, Master Thief! It is such an honor to finally have you here. My kudos and thanks on getting that ring for me."

"That's what I do."

"Indeed. You are indeed gifted in your...trade. That's what I wanted to talk to you about."

"You have another job for me then?"

"Come with me; I'll tell you all about it." Orion motioned for the thief to follow him.

"Alright! I'll just leave you three alone then." Basso remarked.

"Three?" Orion asked, looking at Gwenevere again.

"Uh, why yes! My cousin's daughter won't leave Garrett's side. She tends to get a little 'unruly' without him."

"Oh...I see." Orion stroked his chin. Garrett rolled his eyes. "Very well then Bethany. Please, follow along." Gwenevere did as she was bade, keeping pace behind her mentor.

Upon closer inspection, the young woman noticed that the area had been transformed into a makeshift hospital, and was full of sickly people. Children to elders all lay upon filthy cots, suffering from a variety of afflictions, although most notably; the dreaded gloom. Gwenevere felt a twinge of guilt as she continued past. Her magic protected her from sickness, and could possibly even be used to cure some of these victims. Some part of her wanted to stay and aid these people, but she also didn't want to reveal herself; especially with Orion around.

If she did that, then even Garrett would not be able to help her.


	9. Chapter 9

Gwenevere sat at her teacher's feet, looking down at her own. She had no idea that Orion would be here! If she'd known, then she wouldn't have come at all. And there would have been nothing Garrett, Basso, or anyone else, could have done about it.

He was there. He knew what she was, and he wanted it; perhaps even more than her father. The young woman kept her head down, listening to the men converse. It seemed that Orion wanted Garrett to steal something else for him. A book.

"So, do we have a deal?"

"That depends. How much are you paying?"

"More money than the ring; easily." Orion coaxed. Garrett was unfazed.

"I'd prefer an actual amount." From beneath her hood, Gwenevere gave a tiny grin. Garrett was nobodies fool.

"Alright Garrett. How does one thousand silvers sound?" The vast amount nearly caused Gwenevere to look up when it was announced. She wasn't the only one who had been impressed.

"That's a hundred gold. Why are you offering so much for a simple book?" Garrett investigated. "I'm sure that's not exactly the going rate on literature these days."

"I have my reasons. Reasons which I deign to discuss."

"Suits me."

"Grand! So we have a deal then?" Orion beamed.

"Just tell me where I procure this book of yours." Garrett snapped.

"Oh yes, of course! You'll find the book inside the House of Blossoms. I have no idea where, but a very good friend of mine informed me that there is a secret passageway within Madam Xiao Xiao's quarters. I'm guessing that it might be somewhere in there."

"Right. Need I ask who this 'very good' friend of yours is?" The thief grumbled.

"Eh, you wouldn't want to know."

"Well, I got what I need." Watching Garrett stand, Gwenevere followed suit.

"Excellent, my friend!" Orion reached out to shake Garrett's hand, a gesture which the thief blatantly refused. Lowering his outstretched hand, he looked instead to Gwenevere, with a knowing, slightly disturbing twinkle in his eye. "It was a pleasure to meet you...Bethany." Gwenevere wasted no time in tailing her mentor out of that place.

*********************************

Once they were back within the protective walls of his sanctum, Garrett began planning instantly for his newest job. He had procured some maps of the area from Basso, in exchange for a small cut of the lucrative profits, and he was now lost in concentration.

"Are you really gonna help that Orion guy?" Gwenevere piped up.

"The price is right." Was all he answered her with, as Garrett continued to mull over his new maps.

"But, you have no idea who he is; or what he's going to do with that book!"

"None of my business."

"It should be! What if he does something awful. YOU'D be the one responsible!"

"Again. None of my business."

"Aren't you worried about him slandering your reputation?"

"You mean the reputation I have for being the most wanted man in the city? Nope, that's about as bad of a reputation as you can get." Garrett remarked dryly.

"I see," Gwenevere crossed her arms. "so, figured out a way in yet?" She asked, deciding to change the subject. If Garrett didn't care, why should she? After all, there was little Orion could use the book for without her magic to assist. Or so she thought.

"Not yet. I'm still looking."

"Can I help?"

"No."

"Why not?" The young woman continued to be persistent. Garrett finally looked up from his maps and scowled at her.

"I have another lesson for you tomorrow night. You can occupy your overactive mind with that." Gwenevere leapt back.

"What?! Another one? But you just tested my stealth this evening on the way over to meet Orion!"

"Right. And not much has changed. I want you to be able to sneak up on a guard and pickpocket the bugger by the end of the week, else I can't even think about taking you with me to the House of Blossoms." Gwenevere gasped.

"Your...taking me on the job? Do you think I'm ready?" She asked, hopefully.

"We'll find out, come the end of the week."

"And what if I'm not?"

"Then you stay here."

"But Basso said-" Garrett cut her off by slamming his fists down onto the table.

"I know what Basso said! Forget it. In case you haven't noticed, I'm used to being completely alone; and spending every waking moment with a hyperactive kid like you is driving me insane!" Gwenevere violently turned away.

"I see..." She mumbled. Curling up onto her dark blue cloak, the young woman shut her eyes. Tears pricked her eyelashes as her heart once again flooded with an uncomfortable heat. Why was Garrett always so eager to push her away? She just wanted to help him; he had already helped her so much. Without his guidance, the young woman knew that she would have never known what to do, or how to get by alone within the harsh underbelly of this city. There was no argument whatsoever. Garrett, had saved her life. Was it so wrong to want to repay such a debt? As her teacher continued his preparations, Gwenevere wiped her eyes, and tried to rest. It had been a long day; and one that she would sooner like to forget.

Garrett went back to his planning, emitting a loud, frustrated sigh. He didn't usually snap like that, and it worried him to think that Gwenevere was causing him to loose his self-control. Help? Why would she think for a second that I would ever require her help? There is absolutely nothing that a neophyte like her could possibly do for me! The thief grumbled, tracing his thin index finger over the layout of the whore house. The girl was just going to have to understand; he lived a life of solitude. It was the way he had always been.

Because it was all that he had ever known.

_ Like two stone gargoyles, out of sight and undetected, the two rogues prepared to make their move. Their skill level was as differed as their age difference; one was a master, the other, a mere apprentice who showed promise. The older of the two peered down into the building they were on, surveying the scene; hunting for their coveted prize. Below the domed glass roof, he could clearly make out several hooded figures, and said prize laying on a mahogany pedestal; ripe for the taking. But there was something else down there as well. Something very unpredictable. Something very wrong._

_The younger thief edged forward, a look of foul arrogance and bitter defiance plastered across her spry face. Impossibly blue eyes surged through the darkness. They seemed to be eating away at those of her companion. The eldest looked at her as the midnight rain grew frigid._

_"You can't go down there Erin. It's too dangerous." The teen gave him a mocking chortale._

_"For you, maybe..."_

_"No Erin. For anyone. What they're doing down there; it's magic. I do my best to steer clear from any of that arcane trickery. It's an ancient and extremely dangerous thing." He explained, trying desperately to shift Erin's train of thought. But his wise words had already been blocked out by his daring and conceited young protege._

_"There you go again! Same old predictable Garrett. Always so reserved and cautious. Sometimes, in this line of work, you have to take risks. Big ones." The moment the last syllable left her mouth, the thief extended his hand, and slapped her. It was a quick, yet serious action. It was his last resort to try and get her to listen to reason. The look of deep fear and pleading within his weathered face emphasized this. Erin grabbed her cheek, growling in frustration._

_"I'm not a child anymore Garrett! And YOU..." She hissed. "You, will never be my father..." Her words tore away at him, wounding the thief in a place his headstrong charge could never hope to see._

_"Erin..."_

_"Enough talking! I'm going down there." Before Garrett could react, Erin eased herself over the glass._

_"Erin no!" He barked. But his warning came much too late. The world around him faded to a inhospitable grey. He was paralyzed; helpless. Through an impenetrable prison, Garrett could only watch as the glass began to crack all around her._

_And then..._

Garrett shot up from his mattress, drenched in a cold sweat. His breathing was heavy, and his body a trembling mess. As his vision swam into focus, he saw a very worried Gwenevere kneeling beside him.

"Are you alright? You were screaming." She offered. Garrett caught his breath with a shout.

"I'm fine!" The young woman's eyes narrowed at his ungrateful words.

"Yes, I can see that you are." She snorted.

"Then what are you still doing here Gwenevere?" Garrett stared pensively at her. Gwenevere noticed that his false eye was out again, and she found herself uncontrollably gawking into the empty void. Garrett noticed this, and spoke up. "What is it now?" Without thinking, she blurted out what was on her mind.

"How did you lose your eye?" An electric jolt grabbed the thief by the chest. No one, not even directly after the incident, had bothered to ask him that question. But now, this spoiled hand-fed whelp had carelessly and clumsily opened up the horrific scars which Garrett had tried so hard to forget. The thief ground his teeth. She had no right! Inital embarrassment was replaced by fury.

"Don't you EVER ask me that question again! Keep your nose in your own affairs!" He snapped coldly, and then abruptly looked away from her. Gwenevere remained motionless upon the floorboards, watching him; feeling for him. Whatever the reason, one thing was now clear to her. It must have been awful.

"I'm sorry Garrett..." She finally spoke up. "I'll leave you alone until you call for me." With that, the young woman returned to her place atop the stairs.

*****************************************

Garrett sat perched in the serene blackness of his tower. He shook his head. Why did she constantly want to assist him? Why did she stare at him so? And quite possibly his biggest question; the question that still remained yet to be answered; why did she, an uppercrust lady, want anything to do with him at all? These were all questions that Garrett desperately wanted answered, although he was beginning to belive that they never would be.

When he was sure that she was indeed asleep, Garrett felt the empty socket with the base of his thumb, and stood. Slinking past a now slumbering Gwenevere, Garrett ascended the stairway, and propped his elbows against the window ledge. With his remaining eye, the thief looked out over the slumbering city, lost in a sea of deep contemplation.

Lost in time.


	10. Chapter 10

True to her word, Gwenevere remained silent the duration of the night, and into the next. Still gradually adapting to her new evening schedule, she passed the days by trying to keep herself occupied, and otherwise wear herself out. While her mentor slept, the young woman wandered the streets of the city; occasionally swiping a loaf of bread for his meals, or practicing her newfound skills by taking any shiny trinkets that just happened to suit her fancy. She knew that neither Basso or Garrett would approve of her wandering around during daylight hours, especially since Master Simmons was undoubtably looking for his eloped child. But Gwenevere had to do something to occupy her time.

As she wandered the back alleyways of Skinmarket, an idea came to her. She could practice her other skills too! Whilst navigating the city, Gwenevere had been namely relying on her invisibility; a habit that her teacher was trying to wean her from. The young woman gave a decisive nod. Yes. That was what she'd do with her morning. That's what she would do every morning, until she eventually adjusted to the nightlife. She still felt awful about antagonizing her teacher the other night. She hadn't meant to be rude, Gwenevere was just naturally the talkative, curious type. But her curiosity had obviously stirred up deep pain for the thief, and she would stop it nothing to make amends for that. Somehow.

A tin can clattering to the cobblestone caused her to jump. Instinctively, Gwenevere quickly hid behind a large crate, and watched and listened as two members of the city watch marched into view. One of the men held in his hand, a shiny can of salted beets.

"Another un'? Geez, I guess now I know why you've been so gassy lately." The guard nearest to Gwenevere's hiding spot spoke up, waving his hand in front of his nose in disdain. "See? There ya go again!"

"Relax will ya? It's doctor's orders. He says that I haven't been gettin' enough nutrients with just eaten' meat and ale."

"Since when do you give a rats arse about yer health? Did the misses put ya up to this new 'diet' of yers, hmmm?" The other guard laughed.

"My wife doesn't care what I do anymore. This is fer Molly."

"Ya mean yer new favorite tart eh?"

"Yup." The other guard burst out laughing.

"You taffer! Why in the 'ell would she want ya to eat more beets anyway?"

"She tells me that they're a new aphrodisiac. Said she read it in a book once." The guard finished his meal, tossing the can to the ground. His partner just sighed and shook his head.

"Hey, any word on that missing Simmons tart?" Gwenevere's eyes widened. She tried her hardest to slink even lower within her hiding place.

"Naw, guards have been lookin' fer her for the last month. Still no word.

"They say she was last seen shortly after the incident with that family."

"Family?"

"Yeah, the one that was found loitering outside the Simmons Manor." The second guard lowered his voice. "They say, that they were caught stealin' from the manor's vault. I'm sure you can guess how Master Simmons reacted ta that!" The first guard gave a cruel laugh.

"Talk about suicidal..." He shook his head. Gwenevere, who had been listening in to the entire conversation, now felt a sea of discomfort shake her person. That incident. That family. That mother and her two young girls. They were now without a husband and father; because of her.

"Yeah, well keep an eye out for her. Master Simmons is offering a thousand gold reward for her return. And..." The guard's lips contoured into a disturbed smile. "He said he doesn't care if someone has ta rough her up a bit, either. As long as she's alive, he'll pay." Gwenevere winced at the harsh reminder of just how little she meant to her father. She was a tool to him; nothing more. She wondered if Garrett would still hate her so much, if he knew the truth about her. The young woman sadly shut her eyes. She doubted it would matter at all to him.

The guards laughed in unison, and then disappeared deeper into the alley. Once she was sure that they were long gone, Gwenevere rose to her feet, wiping debris and mud from her new leather ensemble. Her heart burst with excitement and great pride. They had walked right in front of her, and without her spells, she had remained unnoticed. A new confidence filled her, as Gwenevere continued on her daily walk through the city. At this rate, Garrett would deem her ready to accompany him on his latest endeavour; an honor that she desperately wanted to receive. She was determined to make it up to the thief, to thank him for all the help he had given her; to make him proud.

*********************************************

The cyan sky softly faded into the vibrant hues of twilight. Garrett stretched and stood, the city below now black silhouettes against the golden sky. Gwenevere had since returned from her secret training. She sat loyally at the bend in the stairway, earnestly awaiting her master to command her.

"Tonight we're heading to Cunningham's Boutique." The thief spoke in a raspy, thirsty tone. "Word on the street is that the designer there just received a shipment of rare jewels and silks. Both of which will be light and easy to carry back with us. Plus, they'll fetch a good price."

"What do you need me to do?" Gwenevere replied, trying to sound respectful. She was through trying to make friends with Garrett; she had seen how well that had gone over. Instead, she now focused on holding true to the student/teacher relationship that they had already established.

"I've been studying the place, looking for the best way in. Due to the expensive trinkets and baubles they sell, the place will be under heavy guard. Every door and window will lead straight to trouble."

"Then, how are we supposed to infiltrate the place?" Gwenevere inquired.

"It's simple. The air shafts." Garrett smiled a cunning grin, and Gwenevere felt a slight tingle in her chest. Her celadon eyes danced.

Something had been triggered within her...

Gwenevere had never considered herself that attracted to men; truth be told, she wasn't attracted to anyone. Whether it was her nature, or other, personal reasons, the young woman had never had so much as an interest in those who attempted to court her.

But there was something about Garrett. He despised her, and yet he still wanted to help her. Why was this? Was it the gold that Basso had given him? Was she merely just another 'job' to him? And if so, why couldn't he have just as easily left her in his mates custody? The boxman seemed to like her well enough, almost becoming like a sort of uncle figure to her over the past month. As her mind began to process this new overload of information, her breathing quickened. Garrett had turned his attention back down towards the city, and Gwenevere now found herself helplessly transfixed upon him.

It had been obvious from the start that he was much older than her; at least twice her age. His face bared the obvious scars and wrinkles of a difficult and stress-induced life. And yet, his profile was strangely...alluring. Rugged and wise. Mysterious, and sorrow-filled. Gwenevere shook her head. Was this really why she tried so hard to befriend Garrett?

"Get ready to go. I am." Her teacher's smokey voice prompted her to look up at him. His false eye captured glints of the sunset, while the entire left side of his face was concealed by musty shadows.

"Y-yes sir." She proclaimed. Garrett crooked an eyebrow at her.

"Sir?" He scoffed. "Garrett is just fine thank you. Formalities are for YOUR kind."

*******************************************

Under the light of the full moon, Gwenevere stood beside her mentor. They were poised on the edge of a neighboring roof, lurking in the darkness, silent as ghosts. Gwenevere looked up at Garrett, her long auburn locks billowing in the smoky wind. Her skin was crawling. This was her first real job with Garrett. The thought of doing something; anything wrong, and loosing his guidance forever caused fear to flood through her body. Lustful confusion pumped its way through her already adrenaline-filled heart. The thief had his eyes locked on the boutique, watching without blinking as two burly members of the city watch entered; the small bell over the shop door ringing merrily to signal their presence. Garrett watched the glass door gently shut behind them, and as one of the guards turned around to lock it.

Every cell in his body, every thought in his mind; they were all now completely focused on the job at hand. It was as if he had transformed. Metamorphosed into some sort of wily creature, evolved and honed over a millenia with the sole purpose of stealing for their very survival. Then Gwenevere noticed something else. An elongated grin spread out across his lips. At first, she couldn't place the expression, but then it hit her.

It was pure passion.

Garrett wasn't just a master thief; he was also solemnly devoted to his trade. His art. Gwenevere began to ponder if she could ever devote even half this much drive to her own efforts. The road ahead of her was not for weak young girls who were barely women. But even still, she could feel it: The harsh yet honest guidance that the thief offered her. How much she had learned. How much she wanted to continue to learn. The fact that she still owed him a life debt. One day, I'll managed to help the people of this city, and even Garrett. My journey will be long and difficult, but it's also just beginning. I can't give up.

She looked up again. She gasped as Garrett turned his head, and affixed his firm glare upon her. That look. It beckoned to her, pushed her forward. Unwittingly encouraging her to continue down this long and treacherous road.

"Ready?" He whispered. Gwenevere swallowed hard, trying to loosen the lump in her slender throat.

"Ready." She replied, trying to sound convincing.

"Good. Then let's go."

*******************************************

The inside of the shaft was cold and dark. Gwenevere hesitated to get inside, watching instead as Garrett slipped through without any thought. Taking a deep breath, she hesitated, and then entered after him.

"The material will be somewhere in the attic. That should be a straight shot from here." Garrett informed, crawling ever further through the shaft. He could hear Gwenevere behind him, but not as loudly as he had planned to. She was getting better. "Also, I belive that it's time for another lesson. Lesson six: Metal makes more noise than wood when stepped on. You'll need to position your weight accordingly."

"Am I doing a good job?" She asked, hopefully.

"You could stand to be a bit quieter." Garrett muttered.

"Ok." Gwenevere spread her legs and arms wider apart, and scooched slower, trying to place an equal amount of weight on all four of her extremities. "Is that better?" She hoped.

"Yes. Very good." Gwenevere felt herself blush. That, had been the first compliment her teacher had ever given her.

Deeper into the building they went, until a faint light could be seen filtering through a grated plate seven yards away. Garrett looked behind him, and gave a decisive nod.

"This is it." He whispered. "The material's we're after should be through that grate." That's when an idea hit the infatuated young woman. She had been practicing all week on her stealth. If SHE could be the one to swipe the jewels and fabrics, Garrett would have no choice but to allow her to accompany him to the House of Blossoms. Her new outfit was certainly slick enough; maybe if she was careful...

Eager to impress her teacher, Gwenevere rolled onto her back and hastily tried to slip beneath the thief. But in the process, her belt buckle snagged up on Garrett's cloak. With a loud crash, the young woman fell flat against the air shaft. Garrett gasped at the sudden source of pressure pulling him down, and exclaimed when he realized what had happened.

"G-Gwenevere!" He whispered through clenched teeth.

"I'm sorry Garrett! I thought I could squeeze through!" The young woman apologized. He looked between their now fused bodies, noticing the source of the problem.

"What the hell'd you just do?! Can't you wait five minutes?!" The thief carefully positioned his right arm, balancing himself as he looked down to try and untangle the mess which his apprentice had just caused.

"Oww! You're squishing me!" Gwenevere yelped, feeling as Garrett's chest pressed against hers. He didn't answer her, still frantically looking to free the both of them. "Ouch! Garrett!" She cried out. The thief sighed in bitter frustration, and shoved his hand between the tightness of his thighs and Gwenevere's snared belt. The young woman blushed wildly and gasped. "Hey! Watch those hands!" She fumed. Garrett's eyes flew open and a look of shock illuminated his fazed expression when he realized what she had just implied.

"I have no choice Gwenevere! I have to get us free!"

"Well do you have to touch my belt?! Why the hell can't you just tear your damned cloak?" She squawked, her new feelings coupled with the awkward situation were making her extremely edgy.

"I'm not about to tear my cloak when I could simply untangle it!" He shot her a stern look, making certain that she would not protest, and once again jiggled her belt. When it still refused to budge, Gwenevere began to panic.

"Ohh..this isn't good!"

"No, ya think?" Garrett snarled. The young woman frowned. A long, awkward silence filled the air shaft. The heat from the two bodies was causing Gwenevere to perspire, a sensation which she wasn't entirely used to. And being this close, this...pressed, into Garrett wasn't doing anything to calm her already anxious mind. She could feel his every breath, and she could smell a smokey, primordial musk coming from his body. She could feel Garrett's heart palpitating within his well-defined chest. He was beginning to panic, though he was obviously fighting to hide his desperation from her. Instinctively, her body began to react to the primal sensations and urges. Her pelvis tightened, and despite the imminent peril, her chest began to relax. A peach haze filled her head, and then-

No! Enough was enough! She had to get free, to rid herself of such scandalous thoughts! The young woman fought and squirmed, with more determination than before. This however, only prompted more noise to echo within the shaft.

"Gwenevere, no! Stop!" The thief prompted her, his voice growing louder. He hated to raise his tone, but the noise the young woman was making by thrashing around the air shaft was undoubtably much louder.

"I will, as soon as you get offa me!" She grunted.

"I'm trying to fix you're mess Gwenevere, you're just going to have to endure the discomfort."

"No! I can do it! I-" Garrett hissed at her defiance. He had heard enough. Grabbing her shoulder, he forced her to look at him. Gwenevere froze, locked into his eyes once more; eyes that she had been warned never to question again.

"Just. Stop." She could feel how angry he was at her. Their bodies were now hopelessly squeezed together within the shaft, and Garrett's mind was racing. He had to get them out of this predicament, and he had no idea how he was going to accomplish that. His anxiety only mounted when a pair of loud footsteps entered the vicinity.

"I thought I heard something! It was coming from the airshaft." Garrett began to breathe harder. He scanned the vent in either direction, desperately searching for a way out. There was an exit back the way the two had come in. But it would do little good, unless he could free himself. Fast. Gwenevere's heart pounded inside her chest as she saw the face of an older member of the city watch peek through the vent. He looked right at her, and it was only because of the darkened inside of the shaft, that he had not seen her.

"Garrett...we have to do something!" She whispered.

"No, really?" The cornered thief retorted. Suddenly, Gwenevere had an idea.

"Let me use my invisibility!"

"Shhh! Keep your voice down!"

"But Garrett!" She pleaded.

"No!"

"Hey, let me borrow your torch! I thought I heard something coming from inside there again!" The same guard spoke again. Gwenevere locked eyes with her mentor.

"Garrett...please." Her eyes widened into deep, glassy green pools. "I'm scared." The thief's mind dived into that pool, unprepared for what he saw. The girl before him, was genuinely mortified. Why is she so fearful? If they do catch us, she's going to be fine. She's a Simmons. They won't harm her...He was so perplexed by her words, that he began to inquire. But Gwenevere's next sentence silenced all questions.

"If they catch you, you'll die because of me. I can't allow that to happen Garrett!" The thief's remaining pupil dilated, the hazel iris beginning to quiver. He didn't give her permission. He didn't have to. As the flaming torch found the mouth of the shaft, Gwenevere's powers consumed the two into an incorporeal mist. The guard surveyed the airshaft, which he perceived to be indeed empty.

"Nope, must've been rats. There's nothing here now!" He yelled to his companion.

"You've been drinking too much again!" Another man's voice could be heard.

"Hey, I'm a grown man; I'll do whatever the hell I bloody like!" His voice trailed off as the two guards left the room. Minutes passed by with utmost silence before Gwenevere dropped the illusion. Seeing Garrett's face once more in front of her own, the young woman caught her breath.

"Are you alright?" She asked. "That was close."

"Too close." The thief snapped. "What the hell were you thinking?!" Gwenevere recoiled at his ungrateful tone, and her heart began to ache. She had just saved his life; was this truly how he was going to thank her?! As her mind registered what had just transpired, the young woman suddenly felt very foolish. No. I don't deserve that. It was all my fault to begin with. Righting ones wrongs does not warrant an apology. Looking back into Garrett's cold expression, Gwenevere gave him a sorrowful smile.

"Garrett, I'm sorry. I promise I'll never try to go ahead of you again."

"Good." The thief once again reached beneath him, and this time, he was successful in unsnagging her cloak from his belt.


	11. Chapter 11

Within the hour, Garrett and Gwenevere were once again perched atop the opposite roof. The young woman's eyes shimmered with delight at the precious materials and exotic gems at her feet. Rare treasures; treasures that she had helped steal.

"That was too close Gwenevere." The thief snarled, souring her moment of triumph. "If you're not going to listen to me, if you're going to keep trying to do things on your own; then kindly get out of my tower, and find your own place to squat!"

"Garrett, I said that I was sorry!" Gwenevere began to tear up. "I promised you that I'd never do that again; why do you always have to be so cruel to me?!" She exclaimed. Garrett watched her cry with quiet frustration.

"Because life is cruel Gwenevere! Did you really think when you ran away, that this city was going to welcome you with open arms? Did you truly belive that liberation was free?" He questioned. Gwenevere was now crumpled before her teacher, in a defeated heap of black leather and blood-red hair. He stood for a moment, watching her cry.

This girl.

She held very little promise, and yet; she refused to give up on her training. No matter how hard he pushed, Gwenevere just seemed to sink in her heels and push right back. And while she did occasionally break down and sob, like now, it never lasted very long. It was more of a pressure release, of sorts. Garrett stared at her, genuinely intrigued. Whatever she was after, it was worth everything to her. And no pain, no difficulty; nay, absolutely nothing, would stand in her way. This seemingly delicate girl would never falter, until she had reached her object of desire; which he perceived at the time, to be freedom. With a silent groan, and a newfound respect, however small and fleeting, the thief mellowed his tone.

"Not even all the riches in this world can buy freedom Gwenevere. It must be earned. Always remember that." The young woman ceased her tears and looked up at the ivory moon. She gazed over the darkened silhouette of her mentor. Garrett stood with his back to her, watching as Cunningham's Boutique began to stir with activity, following their recent undertaking. Gwenevere smiled.

"Then, I shall do my best to earn what I seek."

"Good." He answered, watching as armored reinforcements barged the entrance of the small shop. Several more members of the watch began to search the alleyways and streets surrounding the crime scene. Garrett's eyes flashed. "Alright, time to get moving." The thief rushed her, spoiling her daydream. But Gwenevere couldn't have been happier.

*****************************

The Crippled Burrick was quieter than per usual that evening. Garrett and Gwenevere entered the tavern, looking for Basso. They found him in one of the wooden booths, putting back a rancid-looking beverage.

"Gee Basso, I wasn't under the impression that things were THAT bad..." Garrett quipped, startling his mate. Basso looked up and wiped his soiled lips.

"Heh-heh! I was wondering when I'd see you two again!" He greeted. The boxman gave Gwenevere a once over. He was still getting used to her new outfit.

"I really don't approve of the new duds darlin'." He shook his head. Gwenevere looked hurt.

"W-why not?"

"Because..." He took a long chug of his drink, "I remember when Garrett used to wear that. It makes me feel old." Gwenevere's face lightened, whilst her mentor's remained oddly firm. Feeling as her heart leapt, she ran her hands over the loose-fitting ensemble.

This used to belong to Garrett...The young woman smiled. She had a newfound desire to wear the dirty old leathers now.

"We finished the job Basso, where's my pay?" The boxman waved him off, taking another sip of his beverage. When he spoke again, his voice was raspy, and just a touch slurred.

"Eh, I'll pay ya in a minute. You two have been out all night, why not have a seat with me for a while?" He offered. Gwenevere graciously entered the opposite booth.

"Sounds good to me!"

"Gwenevere!" Garrett barked. Both Basso and Gwenevere stared up at him. "What have I told you about sticking to the job at hand?" He growled through clenched teeth. Reluctantly, the young woman stood. She looked down at her feet in sorrow-filled guilt.

"Sorry..."

"We came for payment, not to socialize!"

"It won't happen again..."

"That's what you told me earlier tonight! I don't have room to keep forgiving your mistakes Gwenevere; and they're starting to interfere with my work!" He continued to scald her with his sharp tongue, and she continued to take it. The patrons of the Crippled Burrick began to take notice to the dramatic scene, as did Basso, who was completely dumbstruck by the way Garrett was acting.

"Garrett." He interrupted.

"What?"

"Can I please speak to you for a moment?"

"I'm right here." The thief crossed his arms. "Go ahead." Basso blinked.

"I meant, alone." He replied sternly.

"Go outside Gwenevere." Garrett ordered, not even bothering to look at his student. The young woman nodded and did as she was bade. When Gwenevere was outside, Basso slouched over the table, leering at his mate.

"You know, you could at least TRY to be a little nicer to her. I mean, where's the crime in just sitting down, eh?"

"I've told her to follow my direction Basso. To do as I do."

"Well is that really necessary when she's not working?"

"Yes. You wouldn't imagine the trouble that girl can get into without constant discipline."

"Just...just try to take it a bit easier on the gal." Basso offered gingerly.

"Why? What's she ever done for me?"

"Oh, I dunno. Been your lead into what could end out being your biggest heist ever!" Basso shouted sarcastically.

"She hasn't agreed to anything yet."

"Well, have you asked her?"

"No."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because Basso; breaking into the Simmons family vault would be suicide, even for a professional like myself." Basso grumbled under his breath, before reclining back in the booth. He took a long chug of his ale before speaking again.

"You know Garrett, there's another reason that I was so intent on you training her."

"And what would that be?" Basso motioned towards the window adjacent from the booth where they were sitting. Outside, Gwenevere was standing, looking around for something unknown. Garrett took a passing glance at his protegé, then turned his attention back to Basso. The boxman gave him a suggestive wink. Garrett's stare grew dark.

"You can't be serious."

"Humph. And why not? Look at her! When's the last time you've seen a woman like that; or ANY woman, for that matter?"

"I'm not having this conversation."

"I know that you don't do the whole 'wine em, dine em' thing, but there's a lot to be learned from a little pillow talk, if you catch my drift."

"So you think that if I sleep with Gwenevere, she's just gonna hand me the layouts, secret passages, and combinations to her families vault?" Garrett asked mockingly.

"Ya never know!" Basso chuckled. "I once got a gal to leave her noble mistress for me."

"Yeah, I remember that." Garrett mused dryly. "You got ME to practically kidnap her for you." The thief stood from the table, and started away.

"Garrett..."

"I don't do relationships Basso. You should know that by now."

*****************************************

After being paid, Garrett and Gwenevere returned to the clock tower. Listening to the gears shifting and clanking, Garrett struggled to get comfortable on his mattress. He could see Gwenevere on the stairway, obviously having the same problem. He was secretly impressed by the fact that although she had been sleeping on those hard stairs for a month now, she had never once complained about it. But on this particular evening, she seemed to be having a great deal of trouble getting to sleep. Garrett watched her toss and turn, until the motions became a bit too repetitive for his liking. Reaching to retrieve his eye from the lockbox, his voice spoke through the darkness.

"Gwenevere. Come here." He beckoned to her. The young woman sat up, her long hair a tangled mess. She had since changed back into her original outfit, because it was airy and easier to sleep in than the thick leather. She stared at her mentor, illuminated by candlelight. His words had been so unexpected, that she almost asked him to repeat himself. But figuring that this would only prompt Garrett to yell at her again, Gwenevere decided to stand, and walk over to his side.

"Yes Garrett?" When she was three feet in front of him, the thief looked her over. That outfit of hers. He still found it positively ridiculous that Gwenevere had thought prostitutes the "beautiful women of HIS class", as she had so ignorantly put it. The orange glow of candlelight cast eerie yet inviting reflections against the dark blue material, as well as her pale flesh. Turning his head to the side, the thief addressed her again.

"Sit down." Saying nothing, the young woman plopped down just beside his tattered bedding, smoothing the short skirt over her legs. There was a long, awkward pause, and when Garrett finally addressed her, his voice was deeper than usual.

"I like to know at least a little about the people I'm working with Gwenevere. This evening, back at the tavern. I realized that I know next to nothing about you. I had always been under the assumption that you're just a spoiled little runaway." He sighed hard. He wasn't sure he really wanted to do this. But he had made a deal with Basso. Garrett was many things; infamous thief, wanted criminal. But he was no liar. At least not to his mates. Somehow, some way, he was determined to see this commitment through. Gwenevere continued to wait at his feet, growing anxious at the unknown. "It finally occurred to me that making such assumptions can mean big trouble in my line of work. Best to know your source, rather than making unnecessary leaps of faith." Gwenevere nodded, taking it all in.

"What would you like to know?"

"I overheard you talking to yourself a week ago. You said someone died because of you." Gwenevere's heart froze as the horrible memories came flooding back. In the low light, the thief's eyes flashed. "I make it a personal objective of mine to never kill anyone. I steal loot; not lives. And likewise, I have no desire to work with a killer." Gwenevere's body tensed at the dramatic accusation.

"I'm not a killer Garrett!"

"Care to explain what I heard then?"

"I-I..." She closed her eyes in defeat. Gwenevere knew that she had to tell him. He had given her so much; he certainly had the right to know. After all, both he and Basso already knew that she had stolen at least once before. It was time to finish that tale, and to finally put it to rest. The young woman glanced upwards, looking up at the starry sky through several long cracks in the tower's foundation. As her mind began to focus on that awful night, she turned to Garrett with a scared look in her eyes. "There was a family loitering outside of my father's manor. A man, a woman, and their two young daughters. It was against the rules for me to speak openly to the lower classes, but it was also a rule that I never followed. And when I saw how skinny their children were, I couldn't just stand idly by and let them starve Garrett! I had to help them!"

"How exactly did you intend to do that?"

"Remember that gem I told you and Basso about? The one I stole?" Garrett slowly nodded as the pieces began to slowly fall into place. Gwenevere shut her eyes. "I told the father to meet me outside the manor gates at midnight. I told him that I would hand it off to him there. Naturally, he agreed. But then something went horribly wrong."

"What happened?"

"The watch. They must have heard me coming. They arrested the man, and blamed him for the theft." Gwenevere locked eyes with Garrett. Her green irises were riddled with intense pain. "My father...I begged for him to let the poor man go. I told him that I was the one who stole the gem; and that he had a family to care for! But he didn't listen to me! He locked me inside my chambers, telling me that the fool needed to be punished for making me weak." She sobbed, her gaze falling to the floor. Garrett said nothing, listening intently. Gwenevere shuddered as her father's last words echoed though her mind like thunder:

"Remember Gwenevere; Through your veins flows the blood of the untamed wood. You are a beast, and like it or not, people will always die because of you."

"I ran away that night. The family had mentioned a man in the slums, named Basso. They said that he had some connections to thieves. I thought, if I could become a thief too...then maybe I could atone for my folly. That night, I swore to myself that I would become the best thief that I could possibly be. I would help other families, by giving them coin and food. I promised that I would always help those in need. That night, I became a vigilante." Garrett listened to each honest word that left her lips. An aura of deep shame covered his person. All this time, he had judged Gwenevere as just another headstrong brat. But in actuality, this couldn't be further from the truth. Garrett managed a small smile, but in the confines of shadow, it was all but invisible. This magic wielding daughter from a prestigious family was the first person he'd met in this crazy town, whose heart matched their social standing.

Noble.

Garrett stared transfixed on her for a moment, before getting off the bed and taking a seat next to her.

"Gwenevere. What you're after; there are so many people in this city, and every one of them is looking out for only one person. Themselves. In my opinion, if you try to help them, you're only going to end up hurting yourself."

"Is that why you work alone Garrett? Before you began training me at Basso's behest, that is?" Gwenevere inquired, her tears letting up a bit. The thief shot her a bothered glance.

"In part." Nothing more was said for a moment, while Garrett continued to silently comfort Gwenevere with his mere presence.

"What's your story then? Why did you chose this life?"

"I told you before, I don't chose how I live. I never have. It's all I know." He began to recoil back into himself. Garrett wasn't used to talking to anyone, especially about his past. But Gwenevere had warranted a newfound respect from him with her own tale. And this time, the respect wouldn't fade away. Perhaps, just this once...

"I was an orphan. I began stealing to survive. Things...escalated from there." Gwenevere continued to listen intently.

"Were you always this good at it?"

"Were you always good at your magic?" He snapped sarcastically.

"Actually..." Gwenevere grinned.

"The point being, I was subject to rigorous training. And as much as I hate to admit it, that's probably why I haven't been caught yet." He scoffed.

"You underwent training too?" Gwenevere asked, suddenly growing very excited. It was promising to think that her thief was once very much the neophyte that she was now.

"Yes."

"So, are you training me using the same techniques?"

"No. I've developed my own tricks of the trade since then." Garrett replied. He tried his best to steer as far as he could from those annoying Keepers. "After all, that was a very long time ago. In case you haven't noticed, I'm no spring chicken." Gwenevere smiled, blushing slightly. He was just perfect to her. Without warning, she wrapped her arms around Garrett and squeezed. The thief tensed at her sudden show of affection. His body locked up, but he didn't push her away. The young woman released on her own accord, and her eyes were sparking again. She looked up at Garrett's perplexed expression and smiled earnestly.

"Thank you, for everything you've done for me Garrett." The young woman then stood and returned to her place atop the stairs. Garrett's tense posture began to thaw, the entire conversation now seeming very surreal. He crawled back into his bed, removed his eye, and blew out the single candle.

"You're welcome, Gwenevere."


	12. Chapter 12

THE CITY:

TWENTY YEARS AGO:

_ The earth was silent as the lone young man trudged his way back home. The moon cast ominous shadows against the virgin snow, and his heavy boots left behind deep grooves in the powdery drifts. The city was quiet that evening, and was bathed in an unnatural smoky blue. Without warning, he stopped short, sensing that he was being followed. Turning his face to the star-swept heavens, he began to frown._

_"Tch, Keepers..." His inital suspicions had indeed been correct. From his spot amidst the shadows, another, older man approached._

_"So you think you've won?" The youngster chuckled bitterly within his throat. Turning around, his cloak made a light snapping sound as the icy winter winds caught the light material._

_"I think I've got my eye back." He replied sourly. The latter of the two men merely stood, solemn in his intent._

_"Yet still; you are blind."_

_"If you haven't noticed, I just saved the world; yourself included." The youth snapped._

_"As we knew you would. As it had to be." With an annoyed grunt, the young man shook his head and resumed his trek home. He didn't object as the other man began to keep pace with him; at least not openly._

_"Now I remember why I left the Keepers." He scoffed._

_"And I remember why we let you go." The young man's eyes narrowed. That was about all that he could take. He stopped walking, spun around, and looked his tormentor dead in the eyes. His right eye made a mechanical buzz as it focused upon the face of the person before him. The other eye, merely glowered wickedly in his direction. He had been through hell over the last few days. Literal, and complete hell. A philosophical lecture was the last thing he needed right now._

_"What do you want from me? Have you come to congratulate me? Welcome me back to the fold?"_

_"Very well. I will speak my peace plainly. You have accomplished what was written, and yes; you've done it well. But there is no place for you with us any longer. Yet, you will have a great need of us; and soon." The wizened older man spoke with utmost sincerity. The reckless youth chuckled, slightly amused by the very notion. He resumed his pace._

_"I don't think so. I'm through with heroics. And with your kind as well." He snarled. As he started away, the elder called after him._

_"You cannot run from life as you did from us Garrett! Life has a way of finding you. No matter how artistic of a sneak you are."_

THE CITY:

PRESENT DAY:

It was early morning when Gwenevere awoke. She hadn't gotten all that much rest, following her conversation only hours before, but then again, she didn't need to. Gwenevere could never be sure whether is was her strong constitution, her overactive mind, or perhaps something else; but she had always been able to function properly on little to no sleep. The thought had crossed her mind in the past that she might very well be insane, as this was a common trait in said individuals. But Gwenevere had since discovered, that this simply was not the case.

Inside, she now felt tranquil and content. It was the first solace she had received in years; and she clung to it, and kept it close to her very soul. Dawns first light found Garrett wrapped within the grips of slumber, and the early streaks of morning light filtered down through the roof of the clock tower, casting lazy shadows within his domain. Gwenevere stood, and combed her hair crudely with her long fingers. Dusting herself off, the young woman slipped behind one of the enormous gears, and changed back into the outfit that her teacher had given her. After affixing the leather belt around her waist, she was ready to begin her morning regimen. She had gotten even better at stealth since deciding to make the activity part of her morning walk around town. She had also been successful in lifting several rare goods from the local merchants, which she now kept hidden underneath the floorboards nearest her sleeping spot atop the stairs. However, none of these items had been acquired using stealth, but rather, her invisibility. Garrett had told her that she needed to improve her nimbleness, and thus far, she hadn't been all too successful. Gwenevere frowned. At this rate, she wouldn't be able to help her beloved thief on his next job. The very thought made her shudder. Her desire for Garrett was growing at an unnatural speed, and it both delighted and terrorized her. She had never felt such powerful urges before, and she could not for the life of her understand what they ment. She had a nagging feeling that there was something she was meant to do for him; something that had been decided long ago; engraved into her, and completely beyond even her powers and reasoning. There was only one way to decipher its hidden message, and it came in the form of an ancient relic. This aforementioned object she now sought; held all the answers. It had to. With a decisive nod, Gwenevere readied herself. Said relic could also be used to better her skills tremendously. She knew that if she was going to be at her best, if she was going to help this city, help Garrett; then there was no other choice. Today, she would take something; without the aid of her magic. Something that she had to leave the city to locate.

Her usual jaunt through the city now brought her to the large, ominous city gates. The city quay lay just beyond, home to criminals and lepers, and just beyond that, was a large forest. Although just outside of town, the forest was virtually unknown and uncharted. Gwenevere felt her body shudder. She knew that the rare treasure was indeed within, although it would be pointless to steal it. For it already belonged to her. To her ancestors. Exiting the gates of the city, the young woman ran down the muddy trail that led through the quay, and out into the surrounding wood. She remained anonymous to all; and not due to her magic, but rather the teachings of her thief.

Shimmering like a beacon through the silver leaves, stood the decaying remains of an old Pagan temple. Gwenevere stared up at the enormous moss-covered ruin, completely breathless. She remembered that the ruin was large, but that had been years ago. Standing before the majestic dwelling, the young woman could now see that it was gigantic. Its coal-black sandstone design was illuminated by the gentle sunlight, and thick ivy and plant life were both signs that nature had long ago taken back what was rightfully hers. Gwenevere pressed her hands against the large stone doors. But to her surprise, she found that they were open. Quietly, she snuck her way inside, and began to look around.

The floor was made of marble, and the rest of the inner temple was obsidian grey. Dusty tomes written in a dead tongue lined the walls, and a long, moth-eaten silver rug lined the path ahead of her. It started at the door, before trailing off into the unknown darkness. The final feature that she could make out, was a large stone altar towards the center of the room. A sickly natural lighting was flooding down from a star-shaped carving in the ceiling. Gwenevere looked around for any signs of life. There shouldn't be anyone here, but with the door open, she was playing it cautious. Oh, if only Garrett knew what she did during the daylight hours; let alone what she was up to now! Gwenevere smirked. He would be furious.

Suddenly, from behind her, Gwenevere heard a low growl. She instinctively whirled around to face the oncoming threat. A brilliant green light flashed from within her palms, and her eyes narrowed. From around the corner of the dimly lit room, a tall man with a thick brown beard and shoulder-length hair walked into view. He glared at Gwenevere, who stood firmly facing him. The newcomer pulled free a nasty-looking blade, returning the young woman's threat. There was a long silence as the two stared at each other, ready to attack if necessary. The huge man looked down upon the young girl who had just entered the forbidden sanctum. The temple he alone, had been sworn to guard. She looked to be nothing more than a helpless child, barely a woman. Only her large breasts, and the way she stood fearlessly before him, marked her as a full-fledged adult, and furthermore, a dangerous one.

"What are you doing here? It's dangerous to come through the forest without any protection." He addressed her. His voice was low and foreboding. Gwenevere began to frown, furious to find someone else here.

"I'd like to ask you the same question." She snapped.

"That is none of your concern. You are trespassing on ancient Pagan territory. Leave now." The young woman's posture stiffened. Her eyes began to glow a deep red hue. Facing the man, she spoke in a rumbling, gutteral voice.

"Fool! Do you not even know who I am?!" Gwenevere roared. Before he could answer, a blaze of green energy surged forth from her palms, thrusting into the man, and causing him to be thrown backwards. He hit the rock wall with a crack; a painful landing, but far from fatal. Through blurred vision, he looked up at the young woman before him. His jaw dropped as the emerald swirls diminished back into the recesses of Gwenevere's body.

"Y-you! You're..." The young woman then smiled her usual, innocent grin.

"Yes. I am."


	13. Chapter 13

With a cheshire grin, Gwenevere retrieved the beckoning orb from the trembling hands of the temple guard.

"Wait!" He called after her as she turned around to leave.

"What is it?" The guard seemed to hesitate at this.

"You are the child of prophecy. The Last Mother."

"Yes?" Gwenevere prompted him.

"Well, we were kind of hoping that you would...stay." Gwenevere shook her head, tucking away the shimmering green orb within the confines of her pack.

"I'm no Pagan."

"B-but your bloodline! Surely you must know-" Gwenevere was growing quite tired of this man's persistance. She was not of his religion, she merely possessed blood that he thought he could exploit. Her eyes shone through the musty darkness, causing the man to involuntarily back away.

"For one who knows of my true nature, you seem ever so eager to antagonize it. Are you so sure that's wise?" She growled.

"N-no, m'lady. A thousand pardons." The man gave a slight bow. "You now have the artifact you seek. Perhaps, in time you shall return to aid us as a sign of your..." A second hard glare from Gwenevere quickly caused the man to rephrase his last word from 'graditude'.

"...utmost love for the natural world."

"Don't count on it." And with that, she exited the temple.

********************************************

No sooner had she emerged into daylight, when Gwenvere pulled free her newfound trinket. The orb was composed of bright green glass, with an etching of a leaf burned into the side. A wild nature magic bloomed forth at her touch, and caused the orb to glow and vibrate.

"A fine piece." A voice called from above, startling her. Gwenevere felt a rush of hot air. She looked down to her orb again, only to find that it had vanished.

"Wha-" She exclaimed. As she began searching in blind frustration, the voice called out to her again.

"Who knew that such treasures had yet to be plundered by the baron's men?" Gwenevere ground her teeth, until she caught sight of something sprinting just beyond her line of sight. She spun around, and nearly collided with her teacher. Garrett stood, towering over her; orb in hand, and a firm look of unpleasantness spread wide across his face.

"G-Garrett?! What are you doing out here?" The thief bounced the mysterious green orb within his gloved hand, never taking his eyes off of his eloped student.

"I'd ask you the same question." He stopped short, and began to examine the orb again. "If I didn't already have my answer." The next look he gave her, caused a shiver to run down her spine. Garrett held his gaze, locking his disdain and disapproval into the confines of her deep green eyes. He had seldom been this furious; with anyone. And somehow, Gwenevere knew this.

"Garrett, please. I can explain!"

"I've been aware of your goings on during daylight hours for weeks Gwenevere. Did you really think that you could outfox me?"

"I-"

"To be honest, I really don't belive a damned thing Basso says about you. At first, I had to be cautious and take it all in stride. But after being around you for nearly two months, I now consider you trustworthy; and no. I do not belive that you will sell me out." His words came as a revelation to her. He trusted her! He finally saw beyond her status and skill level, and down to the heart of her true intentions. A smile would have found her face, if Gwenevere hadn't been aware of just how upset her mentor truly was. "The city was no problem. I was rather impressed by how stealthy you've become. I've rarely seen you rely on any magic, either. I was content to simply watch you from afar as you trained, never letting on. It was clear that you not only respected my influence, but that you also sought to better yourself, even without me. That was very commendable Gwenevere." This time, the young woman could not hide her pleasure. A slight, but deep red blush found her cheeks.

"Thank you..."

"But this...is another matter entirely." Garrett sneered, ruining her feelings of pride and affection. "What the hell were you thinking, coming out here?! Even a thief as skilled as myself would never be caught in Pagan territory, unless there was a reward of great significance waiting at the end."

"But the orb?" Gwnevere questioned him.

"Is nothing. It looks pretty, but in my professional opinion, it's just a piece of junk." He interrupted coldly. His long fingers rubbed against the outline of the soft green sphere. In an instant, his hand retracted, and he thrust the orb to her feet. The mossy earth sank into a slight indent as the relics weight crashed into the forest floor. "Foolish girl! Don't you understand? You could have lost your life over this trivial Pagan garbage!"

"I had my reasons for acquiring it, ok?" Gwenevere barked back. Garrett's expression tensed. He didn't appreciate that she was taking back to him like this.

"Yeah? What was the reason?" The young woman turned away. As much as she wanted to; as much as she NEEDED to...no. She could never tell him that.

"I...can't explain."

"Of course you can't! This, was pure folly, and it will NEVER, happen again." Her teacher snarled. Gwenevere yiped as the thief took up her chin between his index finger and thumb, forcing her to stare into his bi-colored lenses. The right eye, seemed to bore a deep hole into her subconscious as it held her captivated. "Is that clear?" Still mesmerized by the supernatural luster emanating from his stern gaze, Gwenevere managed a modicum of weak acknowledgement.

"Yes..." The thief's hand dropped her. But unbeknownst to him, the young woman was still captured within his eyes.

"Good. Then let us return to the clock tower." Without waiting for her to follow, Garrett began to trudge his way back through the dense forest. Making certain that he wasn't watching her, Gwenevere retrieved the orb, and stuffed it back into her pack. Then she scampered to catch up with him.

*******************************

Garrett progressed through the misty plain of blue and white. The remainder of the world around him was lost in a sea of perpetual darkness. In the distance, he could hear a faint humming sound, and the whispering of several lost spirits.

"Garrett, what are you doing?" A woman's voice rang though the hazy recollections of his dreamscape, clear and strong.

"Erin..." The thief struggled to remain unfazed. This was a dream, nothing more. It had to be.

"Why did you leave me that night? Did you want me to fall? Did you want me to die?"

"No." He replied softly. "No, I never wanted that." The voice then grew aggressive, and forceful. Moreso than Garrett had ever remembered it being in life.

"Was I just not a good enough student for you? Do you really think that SHE'S better?" Erin's voice chortled as Garrett began to blindly search the pathway before him. He appeared to be be confined, trapped between a wall of light blue poppies, and a set of crude iron bars. "It's not fun to be trapped, is it? Thrown away, with the firm intent of being forever forgotten."

"Erin, why are you doing this? You put me through this nearly every night!" Garrett hollered, trying to break out of his surreal prison. "You know that I did everything I could for you! Is this how you intend to repay me?" The young teen's voice, was broken apart by maniacal laughter. The thief froze. He had heard this second voice before; and he knew that it didn't belong to Erin.

"Pitiful manfool! Slayer of our god! You take it upon yourself to now steal away our last link to the old ways?!" The voice was growing louder, and more gutteral with every word it spoke. Garrett was thrashing now, desperate to escape his prison; escape the torments of this nightmare.

"What are you talking about?!"

"The girl...you cannot have her..." The voice hissed.

"Gwenevere, you mean? I have no intention of keeping her."

"LIAR!"

A demonic roar shattered the iron bars of the prison, and caused the poppies behind Garrett to wither and die. The thief sank to his knees, stark terror in his eyes at the being presented to him. An unspeakable evil now surrounded him, grabbed at him. He began to hyperventilate.

"No, this isn't possible..."

"You seek to taint her bloodlines, manfool! We can sees it..." A third voice now hissed.

"I don't understand."

"You takes her away from us! You makes her like you, takies away her magics!"

"I have no desire to rob Gwenevere of her power! Why would I want such a thing?"

"Yous no wants the magics, you justi wants the girl. Yous wants to takies her for yourselfs!" Garrett nearly smirked at such an accusation. First Basso, now the demons of his very nightmares were convinced that he wanted to bed his apprentice.

"I'm afraid that you're very badly mistaken, demon. You're under the assumption that I would allow myself to be flayed and quartered over such a trivial thing as feelings."

"We sees you! You looksies at her, you thinksies that she's beauteous!" Garrett, now fully recovered from the initial shock of having his dreamworld invaded by Pagan influence, began to grow quite smug at these outrageous accusations.

"Yes, I do think that she's attractive. That doesn't mean that I'm going to allow her to get in the way of my work."

"Yous already are..."

"I'm sorry?" The thief crooked an eyebrow. The beings next words, caused his skin to turn a sickly shade of white, and their impact left him helpless.

"Whys you wait so long to steal the booksies? You wants her to comes with you to the place where the pretties dwell. You wants her to comes...you wants her..."

"It isn't like that!" Garrett defended. Suddenly, another voice broke through the red mist. That second, haunting voice that he had tried so very hard to forget.

"Garrett. Stop this folly before it gets you killed. You've been alone your entire life; get used to it. Do not falter in your age, in your mortal deformity. She cannot help you; she can barely help herself. I warn you: Abandon the budding feelings you have for this girl. I will not allow you to obstruct the ancient prophesies." Garrett's eyes grew heavy at the unseen spirits words. He fought to remain upright, but found that he was loosing his footing. His mind flashed a single image of Gwenevere's green eyes, now riddled with terror and agony.

Then, he blacked out.

*******************************

The thief shot upright, drenched in a pool of sweat. Gwenevere was resting on the stairway. This time, he hadn't awakened her. Garrett scanned the dark clock tower. No amount of thought or deciphering could possibly hope to explain what he had just witnessed, who that third voice had belonged to. However, he had known the second voice, and he knew that she had been serious in her words. Garrett shuddered. What was that look he had seen in Gwenevere's eyes? Why had he seen it? That was what had frightened him most of all. He watched as the young woman continued to slumber, her body rising and falling in place. She was the first woman he had ever allowed to access his dwelling. Whenever the need had arisen, the thief had always sought out women who had their own places of residence to do the deed. He never brought any of them home with him; he couldn't risk letting anyone know where he lived. The irony that the first woman to ever learn his address, also brought the most risk of him being found made him frown. And yet, Garrett knew that she wouldn't betray him. It wasn't anything that she had said. He just...knew. Gwenevere was about as much a threat to him as a small child, and she was just as innocent as any newborn babe. The girl muttered something in her sleep, then rolled over and clung to her silken navy cape. Garrett began to reflect on his nightmare. Were the beings indeed correct? Did he...want her? The notion caused him to shake his head violently.

"No. She's just another-"

"Garrett?" Gwenevere moaned in the darkness. The thief stared at her. Both of her luminous eyes were still closed. She was talking in her sleep. "Garrett...I'm sorry..." The thief listened intently as she began to moan and thrash. Gwenevere scrunched her eyelids tighter together, and suddenly burst out into a loud scream.

"NO! DON'T! I'M SORRY!" She pleaded. Garrett's eye quaked with emotion. The girl resting before him was reacting to something. Something that was no doubt trying to harm her. Without thinking, he opened his mouth, yelling after her.

"Gwenevere!" The young woman only shook more violently.

"Nonononono! Please, please...not that! AAAAUUGHHH!" Her last scream was flooded with a very real agony, as if she was being tortured within her very mind. In an instant, Garrett reacted. He was on his feet. Without his right eye in, his depth perception was limited, and he stumbled slightly as he made his way across the floorboards, before reaching his distraught pupil. His mind was racing, anxiety gripping at his chest. He was eager to deliver her from whatever lurked just beyond her submissive, trembling form.

"Gwenevere, wake up!" He demanded, shaking her. Gwenevere opened her eyes with one final scream. When she looked at Garrett, her eyes were wide, and riddled with near insanity. The thief breathed heavily. "It was just a dream."

"Yes, I-I know Garrett..." Gwenevere replied, a bit embarrassed to be discovered in such a vulnerable state. She examined his face in the candlelight, but abruptly turned upon noticing that his right eye socket was empty. She remembered what had transpired the last time that she had gawked at Garrett's old scar. A tender hand found her shoulder, and she tensed.

"It's alright." He spoke in a strange, soft tone. "You can look at me." Gwenevere hesitated, but slowly let her eyes meet her teacher's concerned expression.

"Gwenevere, what happened?" She could not stop sobbing. What she had just been forced to endure, what she would eventually HAVE to endure in reality; it was all too much. Garrett pulled her cape up over her shoulders, and knelt beside her on the stairway. Gwenevere began to relax. He was with her now, and his very presence blanketed her in a comfort that she would have thought impossible for her to find that night. She snuggled her backside and shoulders against him.

"I had a nightmare." She stated the obvious.

"As did I. It seems that they're going around." He joked. Gwenevere managed a weak smile. She had come to love Garrett's dry humor. The thief watched her smile, and his heart sank to his knees. Seeing her now filled him with a deep sense of both fear and desire. In the darkness of the clock tower, Gwenevere's green eyes flashed like those of a wild animal. He could sense it. The great, potentially fatal power that this girl possessed, and yet she remained as placid and weak as a startled lamb.

"Gwenevere. You've been sleeping on these hard steps for nearly two months now." He started. Gwenevere looked up at him, hopefully. The thief hesitated. He wasn't quite certain how his next words would sound, let alone if he indeed wished to speak them. But logic and reasoning could not hope to distract him from the intense horror he now saw in his student. "Why don't you rest with me tonight?" A brilliant pink hue dashed across the young woman's face like starlight. When he realized what she assumed he had just asked of her, Garrett's own expression grew hot and uncomfortable.

"Just to sleep...I will not touch you Gwenevere." He corrected quickly.

"I understand." She smiled, a touch sadly. Garrett breathed a deep sigh, completely missing the yearning in her voice. He stood and led her to the right side of his bed. He watched her pull back the thin, dirty sheets and slide onto the mattress. She snuggled against the dusty old fibers, the first real comfort she had felt in so long. Garrett sighed and reluctantly got in on the left side. As the thief struggled to situate himself, he felt Gwenevere wrap her arm around his defined chest. He froze.

"I wouldn't get used to this. It's only for tonight. I have no interest in making love to you. I want to make that very clear." He grumbled before shifting slightly.

"I know." Gwenevere yawned, hugging him tighter.

"Good."

"But Garrett?"

"Yes?" He asked, growing slightly annoyed by her constant pestering.

"Why then?"

"Because." He murmured, as if that explained everything.

And perhaps, it did.


	14. Chapter 14

During the next few days, Garrett seemed to push his student even harder than before. He began to realize that through her personal convictions and practice within the city, Gwenevere had greatly improved her dexterity. So much so, that the thief no longer found it necessary to instruct her in the ways of stealth, but rather decided to begin the final stages of her training.

"Tonight, I'm going to teach you something new." The thief reached behind him and pulled free his bow. Gwenevere watched him, as he lined up an arrow with a straw-filled dummy across the room. "Lesson seven: A good thief never ceases to hone his or her skills. One day Gwenevere, your training with me will end. But you must never stray from the lessons that I have taught you, nor discontinue your daily studies. I've been a thief since before you were born, and I still work to better myself each and every day. To be successful, to stay alive; you, must do the same." Gwenevere listened and nodded. It made her sad to think about the inevitable truth. That her place with Garrett was only temporary, and that one day she would be on her own within this city. One day, she would carry out her own jobs, make her own contacts like Basso, and have her own wanted posters. And she would most likely never see or even hear from Garrett again.

"I understand."

"Good. Tonight's training will be like nothing that I have guided you through thus far. It will push you to the very limits of your endurance and bravery. It will make you question everything that you may think in terms of our student and teacher relationship." Garrett faced her, growing slightly uncomfortable in light of his recent dream the night before. "This...is to be your last lesson with me Gwenevere. If you pass the two tests that I am about to administer to you, then you shall be accompanying me into the House of Blossoms. After which..." He hesitated, the words refusing to come. Gwenevere smiled, and kindly finished for him.

"I'll be on my own."

"Yes." Garrett affirmed. There was a long silence between the two, before the thief cleared his throat. "I know that you are adept at using your magic, which is why I do not feel the need to work on your aim Gwenevere. I just want to get you used to practice." With that, Garrett pulled back his bowstring and let the arrow fly. It implanted itself within the head of the dummy across the room. Gwenevere smirked.

"Impressive."

"Now, it's your turn." Garrett instructed. The young woman nodded, planting both feet firmly on the wooden floor. She summoned her power, focused her sights on the dull lifeless eyes of the mannequin, and unleashed a spell. The earthy hues of green and gold dashed forward, sending light into even the deepest regions of the clock tower. Rats scattered in its wake, and overhead, a few lone ravens flapped their dirty wings in protest. The spell found it's target with a loud clash, before scattering off into all corners of the dark tower like frightened mice. Gwenevere looked up at her teacher for a sign of approval. But he seemed distracted.

"Very good Gwenevere. Never neglect even the most basic of training, for even the most basic of parlor tricks can prove useful in the right circumstances." Gwenevere smiled, and watched as her teacher slid his bow back within the confines of its quiver. Then turning abruptly, he faced Gwenevere.

It had now been exactly two months since the Master had met his apprentice. He looked his star pupil up and down. She had done well over the last month. The thief gave her a contented smile. The young woman had surpassed every goal he had for her; she had done him proud. Now, only one last test remained. A method that would help ease some of his personal concerns. He took and held a long breath. Garrett knew the city watch, and he knew them well. Even if Master Simmons had instructed Gwenevere returned to him alive, those beefheaded brutes had a sadistic tendency to play rough with their blades. A fact that several long scars on the thief's upper back could well attest to. Back in his earlier days of thieving, he had gotten caught trying to rob the home of a well-to-do noble, and consequences had ensued. Consequences that had barely allowed him to leave with his life in tow. Garrett couldn't allow such fates to befall his Gwenevere.

"Gwenevere, tonight, I am not Garrett. I am a man who wants to attack and possibly kill you for whatever reason. I may even want to rape you. You don't know what I intend. You only know that I am your enemy. Now, defend yourself!"

Gwenevere gasped silently. His features took on a fierceness that startled her, and his hazel eye glinted with malice. Even his false optic seemed to be looking into her; out to get her. Without waiting for her to respond, the thief launched himself towards her. Gwenevere was taken aback as Garrett hurled himself against her, driving them both to the floor.

Instinctively, she fought back. She wildly flailed her arms and legs in attempts to dislodge him. He kept her pinned and gave her no quarter. One of his fists seized a handful of her hair to immobilize her head and the other tore at her belt.

Gwenevere shrieked in fear and outrage. Suddenly, she was able to wriggle a knee free from his legs and brought it up fiercely into his abdomen, trying to wind him. He grunted, but did not move off of her. It wasn't enough.

She twisted, thrashed, and finally she sank her teeth into Garrett's face. He cried out as blood spurted from his cheek. Gwenevere used her momentary advantage to shove him off of her and roll atop him. She pressed her palm into his throat and glared down at him.

"I'll use my flesh-skinner spell! You'll die horribly," she panted threateningly, "before you can even think to recover." He gave a raspy laugh, the sound ragged and laboured, but it was a genuine laugh.

"Very good, Gwenevere! You need to practice, but for you're first time, you did well." He complimented. "Remind me never to make you angry." Gwenevere smiled. He was no longer her 'enemy', but rather her thief once more. She released him and got to her feet, offering him her hand to assist him to his.

"Are you alright? I didn't want to hurt you, but you told me to." The young woman cooed, and silently brought up her fingers and dabbed at the blood on his face. Garrett tensed.

"I'm fine Gwenevere. Thank you." He murmured, his eyes carefully scrutinizing her, "You did what you had to do." Gwenevere wanted so badly to rush to him, to hug him, to apologize...but she knew that he did not want that. He was teaching her. Still bleeding, Garrett smiled. A strange sadness overtook him as he realized what this meant. Gwenevere, would be on her own from here on out. And he would have his clock tower back again. And while he would normally feel happy over such things, this just made him feel...odd. The young woman was still watching him, no doubt wracked with guilt over having to cause him harm. Garrett's face softened as he wiped away the last of the blood from his wound.

"Gwenevere. Come here." He beckoned, as he gazed deep within her eyes, greener than any emeralds that he had ever had the pleasure of pilfering. His heart rate quickened as his breathing grew silent. Those emeralds; were not for anyone's taking. They were simply here for him to look at; and enjoy. The young woman did as she was bade. Rather clumsily, Garrett took her in his arms and hugged her softly. Gwenevere gaped, and felt her knees weaken. The entire event seemed unreal. He held tightly to her, inhaling her sweet floral fragrance. A burning sensation found him once more as Garrett fought against the silent urges as they teased the very corners of his soul. Slowly, and reluctantly, he let her go. But their faces were still close.

"What was that for?" Gwenevere asked, her voice barely over a whisper. "Not that I'm complaining, mind you." She added quickly. The corner of Garrett's mouth twitched in amusement at her adorable antics, his demeanour lighter than it had been in days.

"Among other things, it was a...reward." He replied in a deep, solemn tone.


	15. Chapter 15

Gwenevere threw back her mane of red with a huff. Her eyes closed as she meditated on her evenings training. Her body was filled with it's maximum amount of dreariness, but she could not sleep, even as dawn began breaking over the horizon. All she could think about, was the upcoming heist. How it would mark the end of her training; and the loss of her trainer.

**********************************

Darkness eventually overtook the city, and with its arrival came Garrett's awakening. The thief stretched and groaned as he recalled what night it was. Orion had been waiting long enough for his book; and Garrett had been waiting long enough for all that coin. Getting to his feet, he was surprised to see his protegé slumped forward in the corner. At first he thought her still asleep, until he heard the soft humming emitting from her person. Gwenevere's voice was a few octaves higher than per usual, as she continued to hum and whisper to herself. The situation should have unnerved him, but instead Garrett listened, captivated. While he wasn't exactly afraid, the way she spoke did bother him slightly. He wasn't an expert on any sort of dialect, save the one he was familiar with; but he did know this one. It was Pagan.

"Gwenevere." He called to her, snapping her out of whatever meditation she was attempting in order to calm herself for the upcoming job. She brought up her face from her knees, and stared intensely at him. Garrett did the same. "What are you doing?"

"I was...preparing myself for the night ahead."

"You know what I meant. I'm no fool Gwenevere; and I've been around. That, was Pagan talk." His face darkened, as he recalled the day she had fled into the forest. "Care to explain?" The young woman sighed.

"Alright. I do have...some Pagan influence, although other than wishing to preserve the natural world, I do NOT share their beliefs or practices."

"So you have no plans to use nature magic to cover the city in pretty flowers, I take it?"

"Of course not! That would be silly." Gwenevere smiled.

"Not so much, if you indeed have the power to do so. You are a mage Gwenevere, I honestly have no idea of what you are capable of. That has always bothered me." Gwenevere gave him a hurt look.

"Garrett. I would never do anything to betray your trust, or harm you in any way. Nor would I bring harm or suffering to this city. I wish to aid these people, remember?" She stood and spun around playfully, however inappropriate and strange it was. When her twirling ceased, she faced her mentor. "And by the way, I'm not a mage. I'm a witch."

"And just how is that supposed to alleviate my concern?"

"It isn't I suppose. I'm just getting a little annoyed with the term 'mage', that's all."

"Is that all? Really?"

"Well no. You see, the spells that I do know, were passed down through my family for generations."

"Not Lord Simmon's side of the line, I take it." Garrett quipped.

"No."

"You mean to tell me that you can use more than just a couple of spells?"

"Of course I can!"

"Well, why didn't you tell me this sooner?!"

"You never asked. You taught me to never answer questions unless directly approached." Gwenevere replied with a giggle. Garrett smiled.

"So I did..."

***************************************

The House of Blossoms hadn't changed a bit since the days of Gwenevere's youth. Even in the dead of night, there were people out and about, busy and boisterous. She crept along the cobblestone streets behind Garrett, eager to find a way inside. As she passed by, she noticed a few of her father's private guards loitering around outside the brothel. This made Gwenevere very nervous; and for good reason. She knew that he was looking for her, and he would do anything to get her back within his greedy clutches.

"What are we just standing around for? This place reeks!" Gwenevere complained, holding her nose. The sewer output was just below her, and the pungent fumes made her want to vomit.

"We'll need to wait until these goons clear off before we can find a suitable way in." Garrett hissed.

"I have an idea!" She smiled, and began to undress. Garrett's eyes flew open in shock.

"Gwenevere! What are you-" He growled, fighting to keep his voice low. His worries were eased when he saw a shred of dark blue fabric begin to poke through as she removed her leather pants. Gwenevere smirked at his pale face.

"Did you really think that I would take my clothes off in public? Even if it was for you." She flirted quickly. Part of her just needed to get the words out of her system, and hoped that the thief wouldn't pick up on them. But Gwenevere also knew that this was her last chance to make her feelings for Garrett known, and she was willing to take such a forward risk. She slipped the leather tunic and hood up over her head. Gwenevere tossed the leather outfit at Garrett's feet as he gawked at her. She had worn her old outfit underneath. The harlot corset and mini skirt which the naïve young thing had mistaken for a low-class fashion statement.

"What was the point of that?!" Garrett retorted, extremely upset that after all the promise and respect she had shown, she would choose to defy his instruction now. "Gwenevere, I told you not to wear that anymore!"

"I know, I know. But given our current job, I thought it would be useful."

"Useful!" He cried out, flabbergasted. He looked around frantically, before locking eyes with her. "That bright sparkly get-up has absolutely no use to a thief Gwenevere!" Gwenevere just crossed her arms in defiance.

"Listen Garrett. After tonight, I'm not going to be your student anymore. In fact, you said that I passed my test! Which means, I'm not your student now even!"

"If you're still at my side, if you're still at my beckoned call, then you're STILL under my instruction. I work alone, the only exception being you because Basso paid me to train you, and-" Garrett cut himself off as a deep guilt and horrendous agony burned its way though his chest. Gwenevere could instantly see that something was very wrong.

"Garrett? What do you mean, and? Was there...did you train someone else before too?" The thief turned away violently, desperately trying to recoil from his own mind and the bittersweet memories it held. "Garrett?"

"...Yes..." He managed, in a low, uncomfortable tone. Gwenevere took a step closer. She extended her hand to touch his shoulder, but decided at the last moment that such an offer would be unwelcome. She could not see his face, but from his stiffened posture and heavy breathing, Gwenevere could tell that he was in great pain. She stood in silence, waiting for him to address her.

"We need to stay focused Gwenevere. And you need to listen to me."

"But I have a good plan!" She protested. Had the thief's thoughts not been ravaged by the memories of Erin's terrified expression as she fell to her doom, he would never have listened to his pupil's idea. But listen he did.

"Alright. Humor me."

"Well, I could go in through the front door. Dressed like this, they'll assume that I'm one of the girls. Even you told me that I look like a prostitute. Once inside, I can open the backdoor for you." She explained. Garrett was astonished. He hadn't expected the young woman to come up with any sort of reasonable plan; yet she had.

"Alright Gwenevere. You do that. I do know of a way in, but it requires a special tool and I only have one of those. If you have your own way inside, then I'll just carry out my earlier method of infiltration." He reasoned. As he started away, Garrett stopped short and looked back at her. "Gwenevere. Are you certain that you can do this?"

"Yes."

********************************

Gwenevere kept her head down as she sprinted past the two Simmon's family guards and entered through the double doors of the House of Blossoms. The scent of strong incense and perfume hit her in the face, and something else unseen was causing her to feel slightly dizzy. The inside of the brothel was done up in reds and dark browns. It was almost sinister-looking; in a luxurious and welcoming sort of way. The young woman gaped in shock as she passed by a topless harlot in the process of performing oral sex on a member of the city watch. The deeper she progressed into the debauched mansion, the more uncomfortable she became. Loud moans were emanating from above her now, and that strange dizzy sensation was only growing worse. Throughout her training, Gwenevere had never longed to be by Garrett's side more than she did at this moment. She had a growing feeling of dread that something very bad was going to happen to her here.

Suddenly, a tall and well-muscled guard approached her.

"Oi! An' what have we here? A little late-night entertainment?" He asked in a tone which Gwenevere had never been spoken to in before. He sounded friendly, but also hopeful, as if he wanted something pleasant from her. But what could she possibly offer him?

"I'm afraid that you must have me confused with someone else." She replied, keeping her head down. This was unexpected. Very few people in her life had been this forward with her. Her heart froze when she suddenly remembered how she was dressed. A wave of discomfort washed over her as the man began to chuckle.

"Oh no lassie. I'm quite sure that YOU'RE the one I want!" He bellowed. "Now, how much? I don't want anything fancy, none of that lovey-dovey stuff. Just a quick and hard shag."

"Shag?" Gwenevere asked, not familiar with the word. "What is a shag?" The guard laughed again.

"Ah-ha! I get it! Yer act as a virgin is very convincing; I like it! I always did dream of ravaging some innocent maiden! Alright, how much gold do ye charge?"

"I don't want any gold, and I AM a virgin!" Gwenevere pleaded, looking around restlessly for Garrett. She had gotten herself into one serious mess this time.

"Heh-heh. Alright lass, I appreciate the role-playin' as much as any other client ye get, but I'm kinda pressed for time. I'm leaving fer some overseas training come dawn. I'd like ta be with at least one more wench before that happens, it can get pretty lonely out in the middle of nowhere."

"No." The gaurd's jovial disposition faded into a hard scowl.

"What did you just say to me whore?!" Gwenevere bravely looked up to meet his gaze, her green eyes flashed in the darkness like a cats.

"I said no." The guard shot her a frightening glare. In one brutal swipe, he grabbed Gwenevere's thin arm, and squeezed hard. She yelped in both shock and pain.

"You, need to learn some manners bitch! I don't care what the Madam says; I'm gonna beat that respect into your worthless hide!" Gwenevere cried out as he tugged her forward, and thrust her down upon a nearby bed. The startled girl trembled. She had only one means of defending herself, and it would undoubtably cause too much of a scene. Using any sort of magic here, in front of all these guards and onlookers would only result in bringing unwanted attention to herself; and more importantly, to her thief. Gwenevere began to submit into tears. This had been her idea, and she alone had to take responsibilities for its failure. No matter how unpleasant and painful they were going to be. The guard grinned wickedly as he undid his trousers in front of her. Gwenevere looked away.

"Now, you're gonna do as yer told, and yer gonna like it!" He ordered, grabbing her face and forcing her head down towards his groin. Gwenevere revolted, and fought to turn her head. But the guard's strong hands held her. Her eyes flooded with tears. Suddenly, the guard released her with a violent grunt. He lurched forward, nearly falling on top of her.

Gwenevere rolled to the side, and then stared up unblinking into the face of her mentor. Garrett towered above her, blackjack in tow. His eyes were pulsing with rage.

"Gwenevere. Are you alright?" He asked, with solemn concern.

"Y-yes. I think so..." The thief extended a hand, and helped her from the bed. She looked back at the guard who had nearly raped her, his eyes still wide in shock.

"Is he?"

"No. I don't kill unless I have no other choice." Garrett turned to face her, giving her a once over to make sure that she was indeed alright. "Gwenevere. Why did you allow him to get that far with you? Why didn't you defend yourself?" His tone was borderline enraged. The thought of what that brute had nearly forced her to do; what he would have done to her afterwards...Gwenevere touched his shoulder, her eyes still wide with fear.

"I didn't want to draw attention to myself, or to you. Most of my spells are very...showy. Except for one, and I need time to prepare it." She explained.

"From now on, you listen to me. Whether you passed my tests or not, I cannot release you from my teachings until you have learned not to recklessly endanger yourself like this." Garrett panted, his pale face awash with concern.

"I understand. My plan was foolish, and I apologize. No more risks Garrett; I promise you."

"Good. Now, let's be on our way. The book we're looking for should be in the Madam's chambers. We should move, and quickly."


	16. Chapter 16

Gwenevere tailed Garrett as they made their way through the House of Blossoms. To the thief's dismay, the brothel was crawling with guards this evening.

"Must be bed one get one free night..." He mused dryly. He looked over his shoulder at Gwenevere, who was taken aback by his sudden outburst of crude humor. "Still think prostitutes are glamorous?"

"Are you ever gonna let that go? I didn't know any better!" She defended.

"Of course you didn't..." The thief grinned. His attention remained focused on the dozen or so guards lurking just beyond the rich red velvet curtain. The opium was beginning to take its toll on him, and Garrett fought to remain focused.

"You have a plan, I assume?" Gwenevere whispered.

"We need to get up to the second floor, but with all these guards around, that's going to be no easy task...Even I couldn't knock out that many people without being detected." Gwenevere listened intently to the problem at hand, and she had a rather brilliant idea.

"But maybe...I can!" She burst with glee.

"No Gwenevere. You've already gotten yourself in enough trouble tonight."

"But I can do it from here; without even being detected." She pleaded.

"What do you mean? How is that even possible?"

"I have a sleep spell...actually, it's more of a hex. It takes about five minutes, but I can perform a ritual that will put anyone who isn't behind a sealed door into a slumber." Garrett turned around and gave her a genuine smile.

"That, actually sounds rather useful." The young woman felt her face blaze a bright red.

"Thank you..."

"But...what about me? Won't it affect me as well?" The thief reasoned.

"This isn't like that Garrett! Magic is different than weapons or chemicals. It can be harnessed and controlled fluidly. If I do not wish for sleep to take you, the hex will not allow it." She explained.

"Alright. Begin the ritual then." Gwenevere gave him a swift nod. As Garrett continued to be on the lookout for members of the watch, the young woman made mental preparations for her hex. She began to quietly whisper lines of ancient Pagan, before her speech broke into high-pitched gibberish. Garrett was momentarily distracted by this, but the heavy sound of armored footsteps called his mind back to reality. Finally, after what seemed much longer than five minutes, Gwenevere rose to her feet and threw her arms out to the sides. A wave of smoky mist wafted from her body, and her skin began to glow a light yellow. Her green eyes grew luminous and wild. The odd gibberish continued, louder and more intense. Garrett covered his ears as her chanting rose into an inhuman screech. For a moment, he almost ordered her to abort the ritual, fearing that someone would surely hear her. But as he opened his eyes, the thief was greeted by a welcome sight indeed. The brothel, was engulfed in a soft grey mist. Silence, flooded his eardrums. At first, Garrett was cautious. A part of him didn't belive that the hex had worked. But as he crept in and out of dark corners and dim candlelight, Gwenevere's success became blatantly obvious. The thief wasted no time in swiping everything that was not nailed down. Turning to his student, his grin expanded.

"You did very well."

********************************************

The remainder of their progression through the House of Blossoms was rather uneventful. Madam Xiao Xiao's chambers were easy to find, and save for a few traps, just as easy to rob. Gwenevere waited for Garrett to retrieve the book, picking up a tome of her own for perusal. She quickly shelved the novel, after a quick and rather uncomfortable peek at its contents.

"It isn't here." He growled, feeling through the unseen crevices of the Madam's desk drawers.

"Maybe someone else already took it?" Gwenevere offered.

"Impossible..." The thief muttered. "I'm the only one skilled enough to pull this off." Gwenevere smiled. She loved it when he spoke with such arrogance. The thief grumbled a string of curses under his breath, until his fingers found a small slip of paper, which he pulled out. As Garrett began to read, Gwenevere walked to his side.

"What's that?" She asked.

"Just what we need." He replied, as his eyes lit up at the papers contents. Rushing past Gwenevere, Garrett grabbed ahold of a nearby oil painting. The young woman cocked her head, confused.

"I...don't think we can take that. It's far too large to fit into your knapsack." Her teacher didn't respond. Instead, he began to gently run his hands over the outer frame of the picture. Gwenevere felt herself blush again as she watched him work. She began to ponder what those skilled hands would feel like, if they were exploring the curves of her body...

NO!

She corrected her thoughts, shaking her head violently. She still felt a bit light-headed from the opium, and Gwenevere decided to take a seat on the Madam's desk until Garrett finished. He concluded his work quickly, and to her amazement, the wall the painting was on gave a deep rumble and turned in on itself.

"H-how did that happen?" She inquired, shooting up.

"It's the secret passageway this note spoke of. The book must be down here somewhere. If it's as valuable as Orion claims, Xiao Xiao would want to keep it as safe as possible." Garrett held the side of the wall open, allowing Gwenevere to enter first. Then, he cautiously closed up the passage.

******************************************

The passage was ancient, and lined with bookshelves that were overflowing with tomes. Gwenevere followed Garrett deeper into the ruin, taking a moment to listen as a man ordered one of the prostitutes to slap him. How odd...she thought, oblivious to such things as masochism; or sex.

The bend of the passage led down some stairs into a dimly lit room. There, a vertical pedestal stood. Garrett stopped in front of it. There was a pentagon-shaped indent, and it was obvious that... The thief shakily pulled free a small bronze pendent. Gwenevere gawked at the artifact. Her mind recognized it instantly, and screamed for her to tear it away from him.

"Garrett. Where did you get that?!" She demanded with so much aggression, that the thief didn't think to argue.

"Someone left it for me..."

"Left it for...Garrett. Do you even know what this is?!" Gwenevere cried out.

"I'm assuming that it fits here, and hopefully will help us find the book." He replied sourly. Gwenevere's voice began to tremble with excitement.

"Oh, it's far more than that!"

"What are you taking about?"

"That's a talisman of the old gods. It's called, "The Memory Keeper." It is rumored to be the key to true knowledge." Gwenevere explained, unable to help but admire the forgotten object the thief held in his hands.

"How do you know all of that? More of your Pagan influence?" Garrett sneered.

"According to my mother's stories, actually."

"I see. Do these tales also explain how to use the blasted thing?" Gwenevere smiled.

"Here, I'll show you." Without thinking, she went to take the talisman from her mentor's hands. But Garrett's reflexes wouldn't allow it. He wasn't used to letting things leave his possession once he obtained them. Defensively, his fingers closed; trapping Gwenevere's hand along with his trinket. The young woman gasped at his warm touch. The realization of what he was doing caused the thief to jerk back, releasing her. The talisman clattered to the stone floor, and neither the thief nor the witch was in any condition to retrieve it. As his eyes once again found themselves drawn into Gwenevere's untamed green orbs, Garrett felt his heart shudder. He knew that he shouldn't be feeling this way. He knew that it was pointless to the task at hand. The sudden surge of emotions that the young woman managed to stir up within him always caused him much worry. He felt...captivated by her. Positively captured within those surreal green and yellow irises. He wanted to unleash his passion for her, but he was unsure just how to go about the delicate situation. Gwenevere in turn, was more than ready to spring upon her thief, as always. With a regret-filled sigh, Garrett was once again the one to assume control of the situation. He broke the hypnotic gaze and spoke.

"You mind picking that up?"

"I-um...yes. Sorry." Gwenevere couldn't help but laugh at her own embarrassment. The act of laughing helped her courage to rise as she retrieved the object. "You need to line up the glyphs, like so. This is a basic combination, I should be able to figure it out for you." She smiled, fiddling with the numerous brass rings. Garrett watched her work, his eyes captivated as the symbols began to glow as they were lined up properly. Finally, Gwenevere pressed the talisman into the indentation on the pedestal. Slowly the sound of gears turning found her ears. A very long set of descending stairs was revealed.

"Coming?" Gwenevere asked with a mischievous smile. Garrett walked up beside her, and touched her arm and she looked into his face. The thief saw concern there; but also confidence.

True confidence.

"I have no doubt that you will be a great thief, Gwenevere."

**************************************

The two cautiously trod across weakened wooden planks. There were three immense towers, and according to Gwenevere, the book they sought was within the confines of the middle structure. There were more bookshelves here; some so full that they were collapsing under the weight of all the unread tomes crammed into them. Other shelves were rotting away and some had fallen over. Still others were broken, their contents scattered about the floor. The thief scanned the numerous titles and found that many were not even in a language that he could read. After much searching and aggravation, they finally managed to find what they sought. Now all that was left to do; was escape.

Horror gripped Gwenevere's heart and shined like beacons in her eyes. Everything had happened so quickly! She remembered following Garrett as he led her past several enraged members of the watch. Apparently, Madam Xiao Xiao had discovered that an intruder was afoot. Gwenevere remained frozen as Garrett held her close to his beating heart. Their exit had led to a trap door underneath a large bed in one of the brothel rooms. She listened as an unseen man began conversing with one of the harlots. The situation quickly escalated when he began to beat her, although Gwenevere was unsure as to why this was.

"Gar-?" She whispered in her lowest voice. The thief quickly put his hand over her mouth to keep her from attracting attention to their hiding place.

"Shhhhh! Keep still and don't make a sound." Garrett instructed firmly. Gwenevere locked eyes with her teacher, and buried her face into his chest as the harlot's screams became ever more painful. At last, she heard another person enter, and the young attendant was pushed to the carpet below. She released a shrill cry upon spotting them.

"Agh! Thieves!" Gwenevere only held Garrett tighter as she felt him tense. The next instant, an unseen force lifted and threw away the bed. Still nestled in the arms of her mentor, Gwenevere looked up and met the most sadistic set of eyes that she had ever seen. Save those of her father. The man they belonged to gave her a disturbing smile as the harlot followed Madam Xiao Xiao out of the room in blind hurry.

"You! Who's your friend?" He grinned at Garrett. Without even waiting for an answer, the man rammed the bed towards them. Garrett pushed Gwenevere off of him, landing her in the corner of the room just as the bed came down. The impact caused an oil lamp to fall free of a nearby dresser, catching fire to the carpet below.

"Garrett!" She screamed. The thief groaned, but his muscular legs kicked free the piece of furniture with ease. Gwenevere felt a wave of relief sweep over her. He was alright.

"Even filthy rats like a good whore, do they?" The man taunted, as flames licked around the room. He grinned and made a mad yet clumsy grab for Gwenevere. "Come here tramp!" Gwenevere slammed her knee into his groin and bolted, rushing through the open doorway. Garrett followed suit, taking one moment longer to get in the last word with the Thief-Taker General.

"Serves you right. You ought to be nicer to the ladies..." With that, he slammed the door, trapping the insidious general inside.


	17. Chapter 17

"Are you alright?" She asked, still winded from their brush with disaster. A small part of her felt glad that she hadn't been the one to cause such a mishap. This time. Garrett panted some more before reclaiming his breath.

"Basso's right. I'm getting too old for this..." He weakly joked. Gwenevere managed a simple smile, looking down at her boots. The thief stood, and watched her. Extending a hand, Garrett wrapped a strong arm around her tired shoulders. "You did very well this evening." Gwenevere's heart began to race. The palpitations only intensified as she turned her head up to meet the eyes of her mentor. His face! He was positively beaming with pride. Pride which she had never seen before, pride which she alone had caused him to feel. Gwenevere felt something too. A deep sadness welling up inside of her, flooding every chasm of her body with a black, murky substance. Her heart threatened to jump out of her throat, as her eyes once again began to trickle with tear drops. She looked at her teacher, her partner, her thief. This, was quite possibly the very last time, that she would ever see him. A primal urge overtook her. Gwenevere knew that it was not right, that she should not act on such desire. But act on it, she did.

"Kiss me!" The young woman demanded. The thief looked at her with a stunned expression.

"Excuse me?" He asked, crooking an eyebrow. Gwenevere took a step towards him. Without a moment's hesitation, she grabbed the edges of Garrett's hood, and pulled his face in to hers. "Gwen-" Was all he managed as she locked her mouth around his gaping lips. A deep, unbridled passion surged forth from within her. The thief was left absolutely stunned. His fingers flew away from his deft hands, and froze in place. Her kiss was...different. There was something wild and unexpected in the way she tasted, the way she moved her tongue through his cavity. Something that Garrett swore he had experienced before, although he couldn't for the life of him remember when. The kiss ended as quickly as it had begun, and Gwenevere now stood before him again; flustered and ashamed by what she had just allowed herself to do. The thief glared at her. Gwenevere felt her pupils dilate. Was he...angry? A burning agony scorched across her chest.

That look. He wasn't angry. He absolutely hated her for what she had just done!

"Garrett I-I can explain...I just..." She let her body wilt forward in defeat. It felt like her soul was now slowly dying. That Garrett's displeasure was killing her from the inside. "I...just wanted you to know how I feel about you; how I'll always feel about you...before I leave in the morning." She whispered. As she turned to leave, a strong arm grabbed her from behind. Gwenevere's previous thoughts were interrupted as large hands gently grasped and kneaded at her hips. Gwenevere looked over her shoulder and gasped as the thief pulled her closer. She fell against his chest and he embraced her. Garrett buried his face within her long red hair, and nuzzled her neck. Tingles erupted all over her body, and that secret place between her thighs began to throb.

"You mean more to me than you know." He whispered. His breath was hot and passionate. Gwenevere found herself tipping her head back and exposing her throat to him entirely. He trailed small kisses up her neck to her jaw. When she did not protest, his hands left her hips and gently cradled her face.

*************************************

Garrett's eyes swept over the splendor of his beauteous treasure. Gwenevere gasped, as his hands touched her still cold body. His calloused hands felt rough against her pale flesh, yet there was something to this strange new texture that delighted her. Fingers, long and slender gingerly made their way down her frame; past her every curve as if searching for a hidden switch. A switch, which those deft digits, soon discovered. Decades of picking locks and feeling blindly in the darkness had attuned Garrett's mind and senses. As Gwenevere's body shuddered, he knew just where to search. Futher down her body his hands made their way, until one of his large extremities was lightly positioned just above her navel. The other, now lovingly locked between her thighs. He looked down at the young woman. He had indeed trained her well; never before had someone managed to steal from HIM! In that waking moment, Gwenevere had. Garrett looked upon her face. Her expression was, oddly, both intense and 's eyes scanned over his Gwenevere's now perplexing expression. Her green eyes were silent, yet they also seemed...beckoning. Bewitching.

"Gwenevere. What is it?"

"Garrett, I've never done this before...I've never slept with anyone." She whispered, unable to keep to herself a truth that he so desperately needed to know. Garrett's body seized at the unexpected reveal. Instantly, a part of him began screaming; demanding to know what he thought he was about to do.

"You are, aren't you?" He shuddered under his breath. Garrett continued to silently attack himself, his half-naked body still overshadowing her ivory form. _What did you expect?! She's a noble, of course she's a virgin! They keep them like that, until they marry some fat cat who can bring even more honey to the overflowing family pot. Damnation, I should have known! _

The thief was now at a complete and utter loss about how he should proceed. Regardless of all Gwenevere and he had gone through over the last few months, the girl was still a Simmons. And more importantly, she was still exactly that. A girl. A young, inexperienced child who had never even lain with a man before. This uncomfortable realization put extra strain on the already conflicted thief, and he abruptly turned away from her awaiting expression. Garrett had stolen many splendors throughout his infamous career. But ironically, every gem, every trinket; they had always come with a price. And that price, was risk. The sheer, uncensored knowledge, that at any given moment, the treasure he sought could wind up costing him his very life. The thief squeezed his own optics tightly closed, the dilemma before him beginning to cause a slight headache. Even if she wanted him to; could he truly be imprudent enough to take her virginity? The innocence of a woman he would probably never see again?

"Garrett? My thief, what is it?" The young woman's soft voice echoed through the abandoned warehouse that they were inside.

"Gwenevere...I...I have erred most grievously. I cannot do this. Just...leave. Please." His voice was more pained than she had ever heard it, and the underlying sadness within tore at her heart. Gwenevere stood, her curves tapering up her legs before meeting at her butt. She must have stood there in the darkness for hours; her entire being divided between exploring forbidden love and desire, or keeping her chastity and virtue; the morals that the nobility had dictated, intact.

She did love Garrett; and she certainly desired him. She yearned for what he could teach her in this regard. With a decisive nod, she fell back down to her knees.

"I'm no longer a Simmons Garrett. I'm your student," she closed her eyes, then added solemnly, "that is my only identity now...it is all I know." Garrett's heart froze, her words eerily familiar to a certain young man he had known, much too long ago. He looked at her though wild, animalistic eyes.

"What are you saying Gwenevere?!"

"I thought it would be obvious to you." She took his hand in hers. In a massive passion, Garrett returned Gwenevere's passionate kiss from earlier. After he pulled away, he looked longingly upon her blushing face.

"Then allow me to give you a second identity..." With that, his body collided into hers. Accompanied only by the trembling reflection of the moon, the master thief abandoned his credo, and allowed his feelings to overtake him.

_Just this once..._He reasoned.

That was his last conscious thought; before the surreal pleasure overtook him.


	18. Chapter 18

The weather was dank and gloomy that December morn. Gwenevere's eyes opened to the sound of raindrops as they pelted down upon the iron rooftop of the warehouse where she had slept. Though she was awake, she did not move. Her mind didn't even require time to adjust to the new day, or where she was. She knew what she had done. She would never have moved from that spot, had it not been for the fact that Garrett was no longer beside her. Gwenevere clumsily got to her feet, and with a generous stretch, she rose to meet the day. Her nude body shivered in the sterile confines of the abandoned foundry warehouse. As she struggled to redress, a pipe dripped from overhead, causing her to yelp as an icy water droplet hit her exposed back.

"Good. You're awake." Gwenevere's heart sank at the sound of Garrett's voice. When she had woken up alone, a part of her had hoped that he was already long gone. It would have been so much easier that way. But now...now she had to go though the anguish of telling him goodbye. The thief was perched on the window ledge, glowering down into the rain-soaked streets below. With a heavy heart, the young woman approached his side. Hearing her footsteps felt like nails being driven into his ears. He didn't want to leave; it felt wrong. It WAS wrong. But then again, so was his getting close to her in the first place. "Gwenevere," A lump rose within his throat as he spoke her name, "we need to talk about what happened last night."

"You don't have to explain Garrett. I know what it was. I know that it will never happen again." She cooed softly, although every syllable stung like acid as they exited her mouth. The thief looked over at her, amazed, as well as a bit offended.

"You must think that I'm quite a monster, if you assume that I would say something like that."

"I-I thought you wanted it that way!" Gwenevere reasoned, a bit hopeful.

"I never wanted any of this Gwenevere. I never wanted to train you, I never wanted to trust you, I never wanted to allow my feelings for you to get the better of me." He snorted, but then stared at her with wide eyes. "I never wanted you to have to leave..." Gwenevere stood stunned by his unexpected words. Her heart was now pounding within her chest. She didn't want to leave either. But there were other, much more important reasons why she could never stay with Garrett. Parts of her that would endanger him. As she pondered said things, the thief rose from his seat, and stepped towards her. His posture was tense and his expression confused.

"I must confess something Gwenevere. I'm...not really sure how to react to this. I've never allowed anyone to ever get this close to me."

"Is it because of what you do for a living?" She asked. Garrett scoffed.

"I wouldn't call it a living; it's not much of a life after all."

"But...you seem so passionate about what you do." The thief's eyes burned as he looked her up and down, her form no longer a mystery to him.

"I am. But-" He hesitated, looking downward.

"Garrett?"

"If you tell Basso this, I swear I'll deny it." He snarled, leering back up at her.

"Tell Basso...what exactly? Why would I do that? I would never betray you Garrett, I thought you knew that by now." She smiled.

"Sometimes, I think the old codger's right about me. That I need a hobby, or a woman, or, something..." He frowned. "I never put much stock into what he had to say. I find that people who make too many mistakes are unreliable, and Basso's made plenty in his time."

"Yet, you rely on him so heavily in terms of information and contacts." Gwenevere commented, a bit confused again.

"That's because Basso's the closest thing that I've ever had to a friend."

"And you claim to be a loner." Gwenevere joked, trying desperately to lighten the mood.

"One friend does not change that. If it did, then I suppose I have been quite the hypocrite." He managed to smile weakly at Gwenevere.

"Well, you're certainly not that!" She continued, feeling a bit less melancholy. The conversation was acting as a powerful anesthetic; for the moment. That is, until Garrett walked up to her, and undid the effects. The thief leaned into her flushed face, and kissed her forehead. Taking up her cheeks within his palms, Garrett held her gaze with his.

"Gwenevere...I... thought that this would be easy. I'm not going to lie to you; I've had my share of women in the past, and it was always easy then. But this..." He watched as her eyes overflowed with the first of many tears. The sight of her pain, and her inevitable suffering to follow his absence was becoming unbearable. Garrett fought to hold onto his own emotions. Feelings which he had let come so freely last night, now forced to be stuffed deep down into his subconscious. Even his false eye seemed to be brimming with tears. His remaining eye trembled with remorse, and an unspeakable need. "This...is too much. I always feared that this would happen. They even warned me about it."

"Who?"

"When I was a young man, I was mentored under the instruction of the Keepers. They let me go, at least that's what they'd tell you. But in truth, I ran away. I knew that I was better than what they had to offer me, and I wanted to do things my own way. They called it reckless folly. They said that such actions would get me killed. They were wrong. Over the years, I developed my own system, I made my own rules. One of which, I have now broken."

"Why are you telling me all of this?" Gwenevere inquired.

"Truth is, I could have had a family by now. I could have moved from the city to a place where I was not known; not hunted. I avoided this however, choosing to devote myself to my art. I thought at the time, that feelings were useless in terms of romance. Something happened to me, sixteen years ago however, that changed that belief, and ever since I have found myself asking many questions." Garrett released her from his grasp, and sighed heavily. "But it doesn't matter what I wanted back then, or even now. I have my art Gwenevere, and it has consumed me. After two and a half decades of dedication, it has become part of me. Stealing is how I define myself Gwenevere, it's who I am. It's all that I know. And sadly, that is the truth as to why you must leave. Even if I did permit you to stay, I wouldn't know the first thing about being with you." As Gwenevere listened to him speak, she could feel her heart tear in half. Not for her own sake; but rather, for his. She couldn't belive what she was hearing! Garrett was so seasoned, so wise; did he honestly belive that all he was good for was his art?

"Garrett, that's not true. You're wonderful at loving me." The thief managed a brief, but meaningful smile.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it." The young woman smiled sweetly into his lost expression. Taking her hand, she cupped his cheek, and turned his head to face her teary eyes.

"I've been enjoying your company since the evening when we first met; even when you were tough on me. And I could continue to enjoy it. I understand what I need to do. You've trained me well, and make no mistake, I am extremely grateful. There are a lot of people in this city that I can steal for and help now; because of you, Garrett. I don't need to live with you, and no. It doesn't need to interfere with our work. But it doesn't have to end, either." The thief blinked away a single, rebellious tear as it tried to slip past his eyelids.

"Are you sure that you would be alright with that?" He asked. Gwenevere wasted no time in giving him his answer. She threw herself into his awaiting embrace, feeling as he once again devoured her essences.

The seeds beneath her flesh, began to erupt with passion.


	19. Chapter 19

Garrett stood in silence. The afternoon skies overhead had since cleared away into the deep purples and velvety blacks of nightfall. He hadn't slept that day. And how could he? How did one find rest after the turmoil of emotions he had just gone through? Try as he had, he could not pry Gwenevere from his thoughts. The way she had looked into his eyes, with utmost trust and affection. Her soft but heavy moans as he taught her the meaning of pleasure. The sensation of her smooth hands against his own flesh. The thief squeezed his eyes shut, trying to make sense of it all. What had he done? Garrett smirked in the darkness.

He knew perfectly well what he had done. The real question, was why had he done it.

Answers would have to wait, at least for the moment. In his mind, he knew that he had to maintain a professional relationship with Gwenevere; it was for his own good. And hers. Garrett sighed, and descended the stairway of the clock tower. Past where Gwenevere had slept for the past two months, and towards his bed. His empty, lonely bed. This would be the first night in years, in which he had tried to sleep. Garrett shed his cloak and began to undress. As he laid down upon the mattress, a long red hair caught his eye. He picked it up between his fingers, and frowned. Laying his face into the pillow, the forlorn man inhaled deeply. Was it just his desperate imagination; or did he smell more of Gwenevere than he did himself upon those filthy sheets? Garrett forced himself to sit up again. His mind became awash with images of the young Simmons girl. She now sat on the corner of his bed, her legs spread. She gazed at him coyly with her green eyes, beckoning him closer. Her full breasts made his mouth begin to water when he saw how hard her nipples were. They were dusky rose-red and the peaks were prominent. He remembered how they felt in his mouth when he swirled his tongue around them, and how she had shrieked in pleasure at the new sensation. Her long red locks cascaded over her breasts, but revealed more than they concealed.

Garrett shook his head. He couldn't get her out of his mind. She was positively everywhere! Was he losing his mind? Was he sick? First, he saw Erin in the graveyard, then there were his almost constant night terrors. Now this. Now he was seeing Gwenevere nude upon his bed as if she were really there.

"I have to go and talk to someone about this..." Garrett griped.

************************************

Basso looked up through sips and smiled at the sight of his old friend approaching him.

"Garrett! Finally decided to come and be sociable eh?" He raised his glass in greetings before finishing the rest of his beer. Garrett groaned as he sat down across from the boxman. "What's up? Where's Gwenevere?"

"She's on her own now..." Basso stared at him.

"Just like that? She's only been under your instruction for a few months. Don't get me wrong, I know you're a good teacher and all...but are you sure she's ready?" Garrett sighed heavily as he gazed out the window through lost eyes.

"To tell you the truth, not entirely." Basso had known Garrett for many years; more than long enough to spot the signs that something was amiss.

"Garrett? What happened?" He encouraged. The thief returned his friend's gaze, giving him a slight but telling grin. Basso boomed with laughter.

"You didn't! You sly dog!" He slapped the thief across the back. Basso leaned in closer. "So, what was it like?"

"Better than you could possibly imagine. She's an amazing woman." Garrett replied solemnly. Basso nodded, his gaze growing serious.

"I see. Haven't heard you ever talk that way about a gal before...sounds a bit like the way I used to brag about my Jenivere...Before she and I had our little fallings out that is..."

"It's not like that Basso, I assure you. I'm not going to marry her."

"Who said anything about that?!"

"I need to talk to you about something." Basso reclined back in the booth.

"Oh?"

"I...I need to consider the possibilities of...calling her back. Of keeping her with me."

"Are you really serious!?" Basso asked sternly. Garrett shot him an inquisitive glare.

"Of course I am! Do you think that I would joke about this?!" The thief exclaimed. Basso shook his head.

"No, no. I know you're not the type of man to joke around. I've been tryin' ta loosen you up for years in that regard. But Gwenevere...I thought you said you didn't do relationships..."

"I'm willing to make an exception, in her case."

"Garrett. Listen. Gwenevere, she's a great kid. She's sweet, spunky, she's got an arse-load of money, AMAZING set of tits..." Basso stopped short when he noticed the hard scowl on Garrett's face. "But, all that aside, I don't think you realize what you're saying. Even though she's all of those things, and more, she's also still a noble. We only agreed to help her to obtain access to the Simmons family vault. Once she gives me that, we're done with her. It hurts me as much as it hurts you mate, but let's face it; the gal could spell serious trouble for us, and we've already been playing with fire as it is, simply by just keeping her around. If she were to stay with you, and the watch found out. Garrett, you know as well as I what the end result would be. You would be hung for kidnapping her; among other things." Basso reasoned.

"So long as I keep her away from them, that would never happen." Garrett retorted.

"Garrett. If a lowlife scoundrel like you keeps this thing going with Master Simmon's daughter; then you're as good as a walking corpse. You had your fun with her, but now it's time to let her go. It ain't personal, just business. If she cares for you, she'll understand that."

"I can handle my own affairs Basso." Garrett snapped.

"As you always do...I just don't want you to get in over your head. You sometimes do have a tendency to bite off more than you can chew." Basso raised his hand to a nearby waitress, who filled his empty glass full of bubbling ale. "Now, let's change the subject alright?" Garrett's eyes narrowed.

"Fine. Have you got anymore work for me?"

"Hmm...I might have one or two things that need done. Come downstairs with me after I finish my pint." Garrett nodded agreeance. But despite his mates warning, the thief knew that he couldn't leave well enough alone.

Because he already had bitten off more than he could chew. Gwenevere was within him now; and he HAD to see her again.

And no amount of danger would dissuade him.

She was worth the risk.

********************************************

Gwenevere walked the empty docks of the foundry. She was cold, alone and positively terrified. She wasn't ready for this; even though she needed to be. Garrett had held up his end of the bargain, and she was trained. Now, she had to face the fact that she was on her own. Whatever transpired from here on out was her own decision. But the young woman only wanted one thing; and it was something that she could never have. The love of her thief.

As she walked, the waves rolled in and out of the harbor, and a muggy spray of brine hit her unsuspecting face. From behind her, the sound of small, clumsy feet caught her attention. She looked over her shoulder in time to see an unruly black kitten walking towards her. Smitten, Gwenevere knelt down to meet him. The kitten leapt into her awaiting lap with a tiny mew. Gwenevere gingerly clasped the baby with both hands and held him up to her face. He began to squirm, frightened and unsure of the large creature which now held him captive.

"Don't be afraid, I won't hurt you." She crooned. The kitten hissed and swatted at her with his short claws, desperate to get free. Gwenevere laughed gently and put him down. Once he could feel the earth beneath his paws again, the kittens confidence was renewed. He backed up and the fur on his back stood on end. He hissed and spat at the young woman, eager to intimidate her. When she continued to watch his antics, unfazed, the kitten sat on his back haunches and huffed; clearly unhappy with the outcome of his surprise attack. Gwenevere extended her hand to his slick black pelt. His body tensed as she began to stroke, and his tiny needle-like fangs nipped at her arm. She smiled at the tiny creature whom was trying so hard to be vicious, yet whose bite felt as painful as a small pinch.

"You're a feisty one, aren't you? I wonder where your mother is? You're still far too small to be out of her sight." The kitten looked up from his attack and mewed again. He backed up as she stood, and his green eyes flashed through the darkness of the alleyway. He began to follow her. Sensing this, Gwenevere turned around and met his gaze.

"Would you like to come home with me?" She asked. The tiny creature sat back down and meowed loudly. With a light chuckle, the young woman picked up the feline. And this time, he didn't try to scratch her.

*******************************************

Basso grinned with excitement as he watched Gwenevere finish drawing out the layout of the Simmons family manor.

"And right over here, is the safe. My father always has at least two men guarding it at all times, so you'll need to be prepared." As she pointed to the crudely drawn layout, her hand trembling slighty.

"Wonderful! Just wonderful kiddo! Anything else I should know?" Basso asked, greedily rubbing his frigid hands together. Gwenevere bit her bottom lip.

"No, that's all of it."

"You've done a great job Gwennie. I'd take my hat off to ya, if I wasn't so embarrassed by this damned balding..." He chuckled.

"It's the thought that counts." Gwenevere sighed. The boxman could tell that something was bothering her. His suspicions were confirmed when she looked up into his face with worried eyes. "Basso?"

"Yeah?"

"You're not...you're not thinking of sending Garrett in there, are you?"

"Don't worry so much about him Gwenevere; Garrett's the best in the business. He'll be fine!" Gwenevere's heart sunk at his response. She gulped down a heavy wad of tension and withdrew her hands from the desk. She watched as Basso shoved his new map within the topmost drawer.

"You're right; he is." She laughed weakly, but she couldn't dismiss the growing terror within her heart.

"You know, he's taken a real liking to you." The young woman's eyes flew open at the unexpected comment. Her cheeks flushed a bright pink.

"He told you that?" Gwenevere asked, hopeful. Basso shrugged.

"More or less..." Gwenevere's body shook with emotion.

This was all just too much for her! She wanted nothing more at that moment than to see her thief again. It had only been twenty-four hours, but it felt like years. There was nothing beneath her at that moment; nothing that she would not do. If it meant that she could feel Garrett hold her again, it would be worth it. Not even in a sensual way; she just wanted to be near him. She needed it. Such feelings of powerful lust were still foreign to her, and they both intimidated and delighted her. More powerful than any craving, any drug, or anything else that she had ever experienced before was her need for him. Her body began to grow restless, and a deep yearning consumed her. She wanted to run, wanted to fly. It was then that Gwenevere realized just what she was feeling.

For the first time in her entire life; she felt alive.

"Kid? You ok?" Basso's words found her ears and grounded her. Gwenevere turned and smiled softly at him.

"I'm fine, but I really should be getting home." As she started to exit the hovel, she stopped and looked down at her boots. "Thank you Basso. I know that the map was all you really wanted out of me; but thank you, regardless." The boxman's eyes widened. _She knew? How could she possibly know?_ While it was true that he had taken a shining to the girl, Basso had never lost sight of his true motives: Robbing the Simmons family completely blind. As he began to question himself, he called to Gwenevere, halting her one last time.

"Gwenevere...If you knew all of this, then what could you possibly be thanking me for?" Gwenevere turned around, an unnatural radiance filling the lonely room with a serene peace. Her green eyes sparkled.

"For giving me the chance to meet Garrett."


	20. Chapter 20

Gwenevere finished the last of her moldy bread, stroking the fur on her new friend. The little black kitten watched her eat, his eyes aglow. She wasn't doing so well. Life was hard out here in the city, and without any help, she was slowly beginning to deteriorate. Basso hadn't supplied her with any work, save the coin he had given her to draw out the maps, and that was almost gone. Her last hope was placed in the contact she had recently made; Heleana. She was a woman not much older than Gwenevere, at twenty-four. But she had agreed to do business with the young woman, oddly enough after discovering that she was a Simmons. Gwenevere was unsure quite why this was. Most of the people she had met in the bowels of the city had spat at her at the very mention of her previous life. But Heleana seemed exceptionally understanding; as well as very friendly. Unfortunately, she didn't have any work for her at the moment either. Gwenevere knew that she had to find a means of funding, and fast. She didn't want to live in this cold warehouse forever, and she was growing tired of stale bread. She twirled a thick strand of hair through her fingertips, petting the kitten with her other hand. A part of her wanted to cut off contact with Basso entirely; she wanted to stay as far away as possible from Garrett's own work and affairs. He had been generous enough to grant her a relationship; of sorts. She needed to fight her own emotions and be grateful for that.

The little cat at her feet perked as his sensitive ears caught the sound of feet coming into contact with the metal floor of the warehouse.

"What is it boy?" Gwenevere asked, picking up on his tension. She had always been good with animals; an unspoken kinship with nature and all of its elements. A moment later, she noticed a long shadow creeping into her domain. Initially, it caused her to jump. Until she saw who it belonged to.

"Garrett!" She sprung to her feet and rushed to meet his arrival, and gave him an emotional hug. Then she looked up at his proud face with glistening green eyes. He relaxed as the warmth of Gwenevere's body found his. For the first time since she'd met him, the thief gave a lighthearted chuckle.

"I take it you missed me?"

"More than you know." She squeezed harder against the soft leather.

"I came to see how you were settling in. It's been a week now."

"Oh, I'm ok..." She released a tired sigh.

"You are?" He asked, doubtful. "Let's just see about that then." Garrett began to walk casually around the abandoned warehouse. The place was in a state of decay, and reeked of burnt metal and rot. It was then that he realized, that in his hurry to reclaim his life of solitude, he had taught her nothing about living in the city. Outside of being a thief. She was completely out of her element down here; and it showed. Gwenevere had been birthed into a world of finery and servants. He seriously doubted that she could do little more than feed herself and keep clean without help. Garrett looked back over at her. It appeared that even that was now beyond her. She was faring poorly, at best. Her hair hung in greasy strands, and the outfit he had gifted to her was tattered and torn. It was also shockingly clear to him that she had lost a significant amount of weight, as the garment was even looser on her than before. The fact that he had foolishly thought her ready to live alone, that he was responsible for the state that she now found herself in; it tore like a fissure across his heart. Garrett walked to the base of the warehouse window and watched as the golden sunset scattered its vibrant hues across the city.

"Gwenevere. I..." he hesitated, and squeezed his eyes shut, "...you need to stay with me a while more."

"What?! B-but I can't go back now! I'm just getting started! I even made my first contact!"

"And who would that be?"

"Her name's Heleana. She's really nice!" Gwenevere was positively gushing with pride. Garrett felt as his every hair stood on end. He knew all about Heleana. She was a desperate, shameless tramp of a woman. A ruthless thug who dealt in anything from underhanded bargains, to kidnapping and murder.

"Gwenevere. She's NOT nice. Stay away from her!"

"What?! Why?"

"She's a snake who eats her own, that's why. All she cares about it keeping her own head above water. She'll betray you the first chance she gets." His words were cold and bitter. He knew of Heleana's treachery; first hand.

"No..." Gwenevere looked directly at him, and cleared the tears from her delicate throat."You don't have to protect me anymore Garrett, I'm fine. Please, don't trouble yourself over me..." The thief continued to glare at her, taken aback by her defiance.

"Listen to me Gwenevere. You need to be extremely cautious with the company you keep. You need to stay away from her; do you understand me? The second that she catches wind of your past, she'll sell you out to the highest bidder."

"She wouldn't do that Garrett! I already told her all about that, and look! I'm still alright!" Gwenevere defended. Garrett's eyes widened in shock. He advanced upon her, and grabbed both of her wrists. "You did...what?!" He hissed, clenching his teeth.

"I-"

"Gwenevere, you foolish little taffer! You're going to get yourself killed out here!"

"No I'm-" In one swift motion, the thief lifted her off the ground. Gwenevere shrieked as he carried her to a large wooden crate in the middle of the room. He set her down in rough passion.

"-yes. Yes you are! And I'm not about to let that happen." Gwenevere gasped as his stubble-covered cheek came into contact with her neck. Garrett exhaled hot breath against her earlobe and the young woman shuddered as his smoky voice spoke to her. "I'm not about to have your blood on my hands; or anywhere else. From this moment onward, you're staying with me." Gwenevere's eyes began to glaze over as she felt his caress. Her hands were free, however useless they were at the moment. Garrett's kisses had completely incapacitated her. As he began to mold and toy with her breasts through the confines of her leather outfit, Gwenevere began to moan with pleasure. Her thighs throbbed with desire, and her pelvis tightened.

"Garrett...Oh Garrett, I've missed you so!"

"You don't have to miss me anymore. I'm never letting you out of my sight again."

*************************************

Garrett remained motionless, Gwenevere still laying atop him. He brushed away a few strands of hair from her perfect eyes, and they fluttered open like a pair of butterflies as he did so. Gwenevere sighed, and began gently stroking the tuft of black hair on his defined chest.

"Did you sleep well?" She asked. Garrett chuckled under his breath and grinned. He continued to recline upon the moth-eaten blanket that Gwenevere called a bed, propping himself back upon his elbows. The young woman sat up as Garrett pulled her nearer to him, tracing the outline of her spine.

"The fact that I slept through the night should give you your answer..I haven't done that in years." Gwenevere looked up at her thief through glassy eyes, as he stroked back some more ruby hair from her brow.

"I suppose it does." She mused. Garrett kissed her again before releasing her to stand. As he began to redress, he he noticed the black kitten rubbing in and out between his long legs. He hadn't noticed the feline the night before.

"Who's this then?"

"Oh! He's my new friend." Gwenevere began to comb her dirty hair with her fingers. Garrett smiled as the kitten looked up at him and mewed.

"Does your friend have a name?"

"No."

"How long have you had him?"

"About a week now. He's really useful Garrett! He keeps the rats away, and he loves to cuddle!"

"You mean to tell me that you've had this cat for a week, and you haven't named it yet?" Garrett gave her a bemused look.

"I don't belive in naming animals. They should be free to find their own identities." Gwenevere replied. Garrett shook his head and squatted to pet the kitten.

"More Pagan influence, I take it?" He remarked dryly, stroking the feline's ear.

"I already told you, I'm not a Pagan!"

"Uh-huh. Sure."

"Fine. I may share more than a few of their beliefs, okay? But that doesn't mean that I'm some crazy nature cultist!"

"That's exactly what it means." Gwenevere frowned and crossed her arms.

"Well, you're no Pagan Garrett; why don't you name him if you really want to." She retorted. Garrett looked upon the tiny creature with keen interest. He had always liked cats. They were sleek and silent hunters, perfectly adapted to the night. Agile and mysterious, and firm in their every intent. Just like him. He thought about a fitting name for the tiny animal as he stroked.

"Pilfur." He spoke in a low voice, never taking his eyes from those of the kitten.

"Pilfur?"

"It's a play on words." The thief offered, standing again. "Pilfer and fur. I combined the two."

"I see..." Gwenevere managed a small smile. "Pilfur. Yes, I think that he'll like being called that."

"Are you sure? Maybe I should have let him name himself. Wouldn't want to interfere with nature in the presence of a Pagan." He scoffed.

"It's not like I'd cast a spell on you or anything!" Gwenevere smirked. Garrett's face grew from warm to very serious.

"No. You've already done that." He replied solemnly. Gwenevere rose from her blanket, and wrapped her arms around his waist. Garrett glanced down at her, watching as her youthful and almost childlike face morphed into one of utter radiance and maturity at his words.

Crazy nature cultist or not; she was beautiful.


	21. Chapter 21

_ Garrett lay on the edge of the shattered dome, his hand grasped tightly to that of his apprentice. He felt the sharp pain and heard the loud pops coming from his arm. But still, he refused to let her go. He looked down into the eerie blue glow of the pit below him. It was too obscure and hazy to see anything, save for Erin's face; stark terror within her vivid blue eyes. Those eyes seemed to be begging him to save her even more than they had twelve years ago._

_"Just hold on, I'll pull you out!" He roared fiercely through the howling wind and stinging rain. Erin was crying out through her own pain; desperation the only thing that kept her from falling to her death._

_"Garrett! Garrett, I'm slipping! I can't hold on much longer!" She cried again. "Give me the claw!" She groped at the sides of the rooftop, snagging her palms on the broken glass as she fought to climb to safety. Garrett summoned all of his strength and threw himself towards her handmade tool; that accursed claw that she had been bragging about all night. That damned thing was the reason why they were in this mess, and yet she was relying on it to save her life now. The thief heaved as hard as he could in the direction of the wayward object. With one final sickening pop, he felt his shoulder dislocate. The thief clenched his teeth in pain._

_But then..._

_In an instant, the rest of the dome gave way, and Garrett found himself falling alongside his student. He would never forget what happened next. That gut-wrenching moment._

_Unrelenting tribulation tore through him, as Garrett felt her hand escape his..._

_*********************************************_

Garrett jumped up in bed, screaming. Gwenevere bolted upright, her gentle caress coming to his aid. She and Pilfur were both with him now, back in the clock tower.

"What is it?! Are we under attack or something?" She inquired, looking around anxiously. The thief regained himself, although he still sat in a pool of fear and sweat.

"N-nothing. Go back to sleep." He tried to comfort her. But Gwenevere knew better. She looked him dead in the eyes.

"You suffer from chronic nightmares, don't you?" She asked with an air of certainty. Garrett stared at her through the darkness, watching as the candle flickers illuminated her rich red locks. She knew? There is no way that she could know! Maybe the young woman had just assumed the worst. When he neglected to answer, she decided not to press the matter. Instead, Gwenevere cupped her hand to his brow, and wiped some of the sweat away from his hair and eyes. "If you ever want to talk about them, I'm here." She smiled solemnly. Garrett watched as she nestled back down into the bed.

"Gwenevere?" He nudged her. Gwenevere rolled over and smiled up at him again.

"Yes Garrett?"He stared at her through the dim light. Only the candles and her own vivid green eyes produced any source of luminosity. He had never been good with women; he never had any reason to be. Relationships were pointless in his line of work. Loved ones were just a liability; a leverage that his enemies could use against him, should the need ever arise. Garrett had never needed anyone before. But right now, he desperately needed Gwenevere. The thief looked down at the intricate stitching laced over his comforter, eyes unblinking.

"Garrett?" She inquired.

Silence.

"Yes." His voice made her jump. She turned to him, his eyes still affixed on the mattress.

"Yes what?" Gwenevere earnestly awaited his next words. The thief looked into her eyes.

"I do suffer from nightmares. For almost a year now." Gwenevere gawked at him. There was something in his eyes. Something old, yet very new. He stared back at her, and before the young woman could answer, he spoke in a strange, sad tone.

"There was...an incident, one year ago. I was at the Northcrest Manor, with..." He stopped.

"With?" Gwenevere asked, curious. The thief sighed heavily.

"Erin."

"Who's Erin?" Gwenevere sat up in the bed. "Was she another student of yours?"

"She was much more than that. She was..." There was a long pause, and Garrett squeezed his throbbing temples. "She was, like a daughter to me. She was the only family I've ever had." He spoke solemnly.

"What happened to her?"

"Many years ago, I was a Keeper. I already told you about that. When they found me, I was just a kid. A man named Artemus took me into the order, after I attempted to swipe his coinpurse. Apparently, sneaking up on a Keeper was supposed to be difficult. But I never had any trouble..." He scoffed. "Long story short, some insanity happened, and before I knew it...I was the only one left." Garrett lovingly withdrew his glove from his left hand. Gwenevere's eyes widened at the small, faded key-shaped scar. He watched her eyes dazzle and grinned.

"Why haven't I noticed it before?"

"Probably because I rarely take my gloves off. I don't like to be reminded of...certain happenings."

"You take them off when we-"

"-It was dark then." He quickly added. "About a week later, a girl tried to pickpocket me on the edge of town. I still remember how tiny her hands were as I grabbed her wrist away. That, unrelenting fear in her blue eyes..." He paused, the memory bittersweet.

"Was that?"

"Yes."

"So, you took her in; the way the Keepers did for you?"

"Yes." Garrett lowered his voice whilst rubbing his exposed hand. Gwenevere continued to listen, and then asked the fateful question.

"Garrett? What happened to her?"

"I never cared much for family ties, or legacies. It was always about keeping myself alive, until the end. Erin, changed all of that. I'm not sure why I did it, why I chose to help her that day. But I did. I decided that she would be the one. My apprentice. She showed so much promise, and you should have seen the way she hung on my every word. With every trial, every test; I could see it in her eyes. She idolized me. She wanted to impress me. But as she got older, she began to change. It wasn't enough for her anymore to learn from me; she wanted to BE me. That's when things began to go downhill..."

"What do you mean?" Gwenevere encouraged.

"She began to ignore me more and more, until she became unruly. She started taking more and more risks, strictly to try and show me up. Eventually, it started costing me. By the time she was sixteen, it became glaringly obvious that she was completely out of my control. She robbed my landlord, and she got caught. I was able to convince him not to report the incident, but it came at a high price. My apartment." He growled.

"So that's why you live up in this clock tower..." Gwenevere commented sympathetically. The thief was silent for the longest time, and for a moment, she feared that he would not continue. Then, he finally spoke.

"That was it. I told her that she couldn't stay with me anymore, unless she agreed to listen. She just laughed and...and that was the last I saw of her for a while. She came back to me one night, saying that she'd gotten in some serious trouble. Big surprise." He smirked weakly. "I was beyond words when she told me that she'd been working as a harlot at the House of Blossoms. Apparently, she hadn't lasted more than a week before...'refusing'...a rather prominent client. I'm not sure whether it was what she had done, or what unspeakable things she had been through out on her own like that. But whatever the case; I knew that my apprentice was gone. Yet, in spite of that..." He paused again, and Gwenevere was shocked to see a tear welling up in his eye. If ever there was one person whom she never expected to cry, it was Garrett.

"To this day, I still don't know how it happened. I can't really tell you what was going through her head that night. All I can remember is...that she fell..." The thief stopped abruptly, and turned his gaze to the rafters overhead. That solitary tear graced past his cheek and landed with a silent drip upon the wooden floorboards. "When I first met you, it wasn't your past that I despised Gwenevere. It was the thought of having to open myself to someone like that again. I always have equated feelings with getting into trouble; but over the years, I have learned that they can do far worse than that..." He fell silent. Gwenevere didn't know what to say. What could she possibly say to such a tale? What could she possibly say to comfort the deep pain that her thief was going through at that moment?

"Garrett. I don't know what happened that night. I wasn't there. But I know that it wasn't your fault." She spoke softly. Garrett's eyes flew open in spontaneous ire.

"Yeah? How in the hell would you know?!" He hissed. Bravely, Gwenevere puffed out her chest.

"Because Garrett. If you loved that girl even half as much as you say, then I KNOW that you would never do anything to endanger her. You would never endanger someone you cared about." The thief gaped in shock at her wise words. Gwenevere's body relaxed into deep and earnest sympathy. Tears of passion streamed across her cheeks. Garrett was very still. And then, he pressed himself into her passionately. There was no force or domination, or even control. It was a free and raw emotion. He pressed his lips into hers, his hands running down the length of her form. He broke away, his mouth hot and panting. Gwenevere's body shuddered, her skin erupting with gooseflesh. The thief slid his hands up under the small of her back, then rocked back to his knees, bringing her up with him. Gwenevere knelt on his lap, her mind once again a willing prisoner within the confines of that phosphorescent right eye.

"Forgive me, my Gwenevere."

"Alright." She agreed, more or less aware of what she was saying. She was still lost within him.

"I am going to resume your training this evening. Only this time, you aren't just another job I'm taking to make some coin or favor a friend. This time, I genuinely want to help you. I want you to become my apprentice." Gwenevere didn't answer him. She didn't have to. The way she kissed him, was all the acceptance he required. Garrett continued to hold her close to his beating heart. A sparse smile contorted across his lips. In that instant, Gwenevere had become more than his lover. She had become his future. A future worth protecting with his very life. When he was with Gwenevere, that aching memory seemed to all but fade into nothing more than a dull pain. And there was something else too. It was a feeling he hadn't felt in so long, that he barely recognized it.

It was hope.


	22. Chapter 22

The leaden skies overhead bloomed forth a chilling rain, which burst out over the world below. Gwenevere stood alone upon the vaulted roof of the clock tower, and opened her arms to the welcome downpour. It hadn't rained in nearly three weeks now, and she was filthy. As the powerful storm pelted her with cleansing water, she held up her head to the heavens, closing her eyes in sheer zest. She sighed as she felt the grime and dirt wash away from her pale flesh and rich red hair. She playfully pawed at the cool grey fog that surrounded her. Casting her eyes upwards, her irises caught the faint glimmer of a rainbow on the horizon. Gwenevere was still very young; at eighteen, and still very innocent to the world around her. There was much that she did not know, nor understand. For instance, why did rainbows appear after a storm? True, the entire spectacle was very pretty, but why did they do that? She wondered if her worldly thief could answer this question; but it seemed too mundane and silly to ask.

"If only he knew the truth...about me." She sighed. Then, the dawn of reality pierced her soul. While Garrett knew her now, as far as what type of person she was, Gwenevere still had yet to tell him of her biggest secret. She had good reason for keeping that particular skeleton hidden. The young woman knew that there was a very real chance that once her thief knew about her true nature; he would despise her.

******************************************

Heleana smiled. It had been sixteen years now, since the fall of Karras; the fall of the Mechanists. The countless struggles and ceaseless toil had all come to naught. As ironic as it was, her father's dreams of modernization and progress were almost forgotten amidst this evolving city. It was a time of progress and ordeal, and Heleana wasn't about to let the people forget who it was that had started the trend. Certainly not that bloody baron. Through hard work, and brutally clawing her way up through the lower classes, the excentric woman had managed to find, and join, the last few remaining believers in the Mechanists order. The plan was in motion, and very soon she would see the dawn of a glorious new era for this putrid husk of a city.

On this particular night, the members of her underground cult were having a party. Heleana was sitting amongst her followers, having drinks.

"Oi, Heleana! Why exactly are we celebrating anyway?" Asked the man on her left; a short and heavy man named Crogg.

"Why, you ask? Because, dear boy, the day of reckoning is upon us." Heleana replied, sipping her wine. Crogg's interest was piqued.

"Day of reckoning? Does that mean?"

"Yes. Aldous has nearly completed his part of my grand design. We have the Primal, and we have all of the artifacts we need for the ritual. Save one."

"Really? What more do we need? I thought if we had the girl..." Crogg asked, finishing his brew. Heleana's eyes narrowed at his folly. She raised her hand and struck him across the face.

"Fool! That street tramp they took a year ago is nothing! You should know this by now! Aldous is a moronic loon. He thinks that the power is within her; that she is all he needs. He is wrong! The Primal will destroy everything if it is used without the power of its ancient source!"

"And...what source would that be?" Crogg rubbed his jaw. Heleana's mouth contorted into a demented smile.

"The Last Mother."

"The Last Mother? Who the hell is that?"

"She's the last link to the old gods. Through her, we can not only wield the power of the Primal stone; we can combine the power of each and every faction, rendering a force so great, that all of the world will bend to our will!" Heleana proclaimed.

"But, if the girl's not nessiary...then why do we still have her?"

"Because, we need the Last Mother to extract the Primal from her body. Once this is done, we can end her. Until then, I say let Aldous have his fun with her. If he truly thinks that her blood is enough to grant him power over this city; then he'll be even easier to trick than I had anticipated." Crogg stroked his beard.

"But m'lady! Why rely on him at all? You have far more followers than he; why not just steal away the girl for yourself?"

"I'm still the boss Crogg. I'll make the decisions here, thank you very much!" Heleana snapped. Crogg reclined back in his seat.

"Well, I suppose that's fine. I've been trying to be less serious anyway..."

"About time! Being serious does not suit you Crogg." Heleana laughed. Crogg finished his drink and patted her on the back.

"Aye, yer right about that lass!" He bellowed. She stared up at him in disdain.

"Don't ever do that again, you slimy gutter ilk."

**************************************

The abandoned building towered above her, in a state of serious decay. Gwenevere cocked her head to the side. Why had he brought her to a place that obviously had nothing of value to steal? As if reading her very thoughts, Garrett began to explain.

"Tonight's training. It's not about taking in a successful haul Gwenevere. At least not for the moment. It's about staying alive. Once you enter this building, you'll need to rely on your every sense to do just that. You aren't in any real danger; but I want you to act like you are. Understood?"

"Yes." She gave a brisk nod.

"Good. Keep your wits about you, as I will be stalking you from the shadows." Garrett reminded. The very thought made her edgy. She had seen the thief in action, and she knew what he was capable of. Once he began a job, Garrett turned into a ghost. He was extremely swift and silent. And nearly undetectable.

"If you catch me?" She offered.

"I hope not to. That's the point Gwenevere. I want you to elude me."

"I-I don't think that's possible...at least not without my invisibility spell." She whined.

"You can use your spells, so long as you only use them when absolutely necessary. Do not rely on them. I want you to try your hardest to do this using your stealth."

"I...I don't know if I can." She looked away, unsure of herself. Instantly, a firm, leather-clad hand found her supple cheek. Garrett turned her distraught expression towards his, and offered a genuine smile.

"Gwenevere. I'm not doing this because of our "working relationship". I'm doing this because I see promise in you. I need you to try and find that promise in yourself."

"Alright. I'll do it." She grinned. Garrett released her face, and he watched as Gwenevere entered the building.

***************************************

As the night waned on, the members of Heleana's cult grew from slightly inebriated, to wild and uncontrollable. She would have had her work cut out for her, had she not been intoxicated herself. The only living souls within the dwelling who kept their wits about them, now lurked overhead within the rafters. Garrett stared down into the warm and cheery party lights with a look of disgust. While they had just arrived, and thus hadn't heard anything of Heleana's diabolical plans, there was one warning sight that the thief could never overlook. His eyes flashed in the darkness as they beheld that very telling Mechanists symbol. The ebony gear seemed almost charred into the blood-red curtain draped above Heleana and her followers. The thief smirked. It seemed that ever since Gwenevere had entered his life, his past had been following him; tormenting him nonstop. And that was the last thing Garrett needed.

From behind him, he felt a sharp tug on his cloak.

"Garrett! I thought you told me that this place was abandoned." Gwenevere whispered. There was a moment of silence, whilst Garrett pondered the scene before him. An even better training opportunity had just presented itself.

"Gwenevere. Change of plans."

"What do you mean?"

"We're gonna rob these taffers blind."


	23. Chapter 23

Pressing his finger to his lips, the thief beckoned his apprentice forward across the rafters. Gwenevere tried her hardest to refrain from making any unnecessary noise as she crept along the skinny beam. Down below, Heleana's inebriation began to wane. Her stomach began to swim with the toxins she had been consuming over the course of the evening. As her eyes swam into focus, she released a mouthful of bile onto the floor beneath her.

Garrett's every sense was on the alert as he shimmied down a thick wooden beam, landing silently on his feet. He looked back up at a hesitant Gwenevere with welcoming eyes. Giving a swift nod and a small smile of encouragement, he waited for her to follow suit. The young woman wasn't used to such feats, and she was already quite nervous. This was her first job with Garrett. Not out of obligation; but rather, a mutual respect and loyalty. The pressure she felt at that moment was unreal. She didn't want to make even a singe mistake; she wanted to make her thief proud. Grappling the broad beam between both hands, she prepared herself mentally; then slid down.

Her eyes winced up with tears as a loose piece of wood embedded itself into her supple flesh. Gwenevere resisted the urge to cry out, even as the sharp splinter deepened on her way down. When she reached the bottom, Garrett was instantly at her aid.

"What happened?" He asked, seeing as she grasped at her wounded hand. When he went to examine her, Gwenevere pulled away, keeping the injury close to her body.

"It's nothing..." She lied, trying desperately to retract the snaggled bit of wood from her flesh. Garrett tenderly clasped her shoulder, causing her to tense.

"Gwenevere." He spoke in a stern, yet soothing tone. The young woman hesitated, before casting her eyes in his direction.

"Yes?"

"Let me see." Gwenevere sighed and faced her mentor. Garrett stared at the long splinter lodged just between her index finger and thumb. "Hold still. This may hurt a bit." Gwenevere bit her lip as he yanked the object of torment away from her. Her eyes widened and began to shimmer as he took up her hand and graciously planted a small kiss where the splinter had been. Gwenevere, was speechless.

"Garrett. I'm sorry." She apologized. The thief looked at her in mild disbelief. Why was she always apologizing, even when she was the one who was harmed? It was at that moment when he realized just how much his training meant to her. How much HE meant to her. Garrett leaned in towards his apprentice, but something called his mind back from the serene world of blissful lust. From the darkened corners where they stood, he could hear loud shouts and drunken songs coming from the next room. As much as he wanted to embrace her at that moment, the seasoned rogue knew that such pleasantries would have to wait.

"Try to wear better gloves next time." He smiled.

"I-I will. Thanks..."

********************************

Heleana lay on her side, reclining back into the softness of the worn bed. She was still feeling very ill, but thankfully, it was letting up a bit. Crogg had thankfully vanished somewhere off into the ruckus, leaving Heleana to ponder in private. She looked around at her drunken followers, most notably in direction of Crogg, who was wobbling from table to table, knocking glasses to the floor in the process. She laughed at the brigand's antics in spite of herself. These men. They were all nothing more to her than mindless brutes, hired muscle who would be nothing without their swords and cleavers. But essential to her master plan; for now.

From across the room, a weathered and raspy voice rang through the hollow dwelling.

"Oi! Quiet you lot! Aldous has arrived, an' he's brought his Graven with him!" One of her men roared. Heleana slowly managed to stand, and the members of her cult gradually ceased their celebrations, and turned to face her. Crogg swayed to the side, allowing a tall bearded man entry to the dwelling. From the shadows, Gwenevere squinted her eyes to get a better look at the newcomer. Then, just as quickly, she recoiled in terror. She tugged frantically at Garrett's cloak.

"Garrett! We need to leave. Now." The thief whirled around and locked eyes with her. The look on her face was quite possibly the most mortified expression that he had ever beheld.

"Gwenevere? What's gotten into you?" The thief turned back to survey the group, his leather boots making an almost silent squeak as he did so. That's when his mind finally caught up with him. The man Gwenevere had been so petrified of was in plain view now. It was Orion. In his hands, he was clutching tightly to a heavy-looking metal box. "Orion? What the hell's he doing here?" Garrett growled under his breath. The so-called humanitarian held a look about him that would have marked him as a complete stranger; had Garrett not met him before. The once kind and sincere face was now riddled with harshness, and just the slightest twinge of insanity. From behind him, two large men with their faces painted in reds and whites, entered through the front door.

"If any of ye try ta touch what lies within this box, It'll be the last thing ye ever do." One threatened. With that, Orion slammed the box down upon the table. Garrett inched closer, as did several of the members of Heleana's cult. Again, Orion's follower gave the curious Mechanists a deadly glare.

"Now now. That's quite enough Simon. Why! If these men even attempted to take what was in this box, they would die upon touching it. This object is extremely unstable, after all." He chuckled before reluctantly unlocking the box. As he lifted the lid, a glint of red caught Garrett's eye. When the box had been opened, the Mechanists all gawked in awe at what lay within. A large, star cut ruby. There was a sinister eye carved into the base. It leered with a wicked glint that rivaled that of a tiger; ready to devour its prey. Whatever this item was; it was truly malevolent. Heleana gawked at the relic. She had never seen anything like it before. No one in her cult had. For within the confines of this box, lay an ancient relic not seen by human eyes for over two centuries.

"Is that...?" The Mechanists leader finally piped up.

"Yes. One of the four relics that go with the Primal." Orion replied.

"The Trickster's Foresight. This, would be the Pagan relic then..."

"Yes. And I trust that your people have procured that of the Mechanists?"

"We have. But as already explained; you see nothing...until we have your end of the bargain." Heleana snapped. Orion's eyes danced with mystery.

"I understand completely. It would only be fair, after all." He grinned. "So, we have six of the eight objects we need. How do we proceed from here?"

"It's simple. We need the last two."

"Which are?"

"I take it that you already had that petty thief steal the book from the forgotten Keeper library, yes?" Orion nodded.

"Not that he was easy to convince. I'm out quite a bit of coin..."

"No matter. When this little undertaking is complete, whatever you had to sacrifice will seem a mere pittance." Heleana's eyes narrowed in concentration, her lips contorting into a demented smile. "Now, all we need are the last two. The Hammerite relic, and the Last Mother. I take it your Graven can cover the relic part. I'll be more than happy to handle the girl."

"But Heleana...I thought we agreed that finding the Last Mother would be the most difficult part; and thus we would combine our efforts. Are you certain that you wish to do this alone?"

"Relax Aldous. I know where she is." Heleana's eyes danced like flames.

Her entire body was now quaking. Orion had not seen her, but somehow, Gwenevere could feel his stare. The thought of what he wanted her for, what he needed her to do for him...it caused her mind to drift into forbidden realms of which only in her most dire need was she brave enough to venture. Then, the voices came again. The young woman shook her head, fighting the urge to give in to the suggestions that they made. Deeper and deeper into her subconscious they submersed her; now practically drowning her in darkness.

"Gwenevere...let it come forth..."

"NO!"

*************************

Her eyes flew open as she shouted, and all hell broke loose. Garrett stared at her, eyes wide and filled with disbelief. He wasn't the only one who took notice. Before she had time to register what she had done, Heleana's Mechanists had them surrounded. Upon spotting Garrett, Orion's expression paled. He quickly retrieved the box containing the Trickster's Foresight, and motioned for his followers to take their leave.

"Aldous! Bloody hell, where is he running off to?!" Heleana snarled. "You fool! She's the one we need!" But her words couldn't have mattered less to her business partner. Orion had good reason for fleeing. Garrett had heard everything, and thus, his facade was ruined. Now, he had a very important book to collect; before the thief had time to get word to Basso.

"We meet again Gwenevere, or should I say, "Last Mother." Heleana greeted, sadism flavoring her every word. Gwenevere's face paled. Garrett looked down at her, for she had collapsed into a heap at the mention of her true name.

"Gwenevere, what's going on?" Garrett asked with genuine worry. Gwenevere cautiously looked up at him.

"Garrett. Leave me to them." The thief stood stunned.

"What?! Gwenevere, I'm not about to leave you to that bit-"

"Oh, now now Master Thief. You should really mind your manners around women. Especially women of MY caliber." Heleana interrupted.

"If the word fits..." He sneered.

"Ooh! You'd assume we had a history, the way you're giving me such sweet nicknames and all." She continued.

"You could say that." Garrett pulled free his bow from its quiver.

"I know, I know. I should have treated you with more 'affection'..."

"Yeah, hiring more capable thugs to capture me would have been nice." The thief scoffed.

"A mistake that you'll be happy to hear I corrected." Heleana grinned. From the floor, Gwenevere's form quaked. The corruption was consuming her now, and it's force over her was only about to intensify.

"What are you up to Heleana? What's with all the Mechanist crap?" Garrett growled.

"My, such respect you have for the man whose inventions kept you from loosing your profession. After all, I can't imagine that a thief who lacked depth perception would fare very well..." Heleana jabbed.

"I would have done just fine. I never asked for this bloody thing!"

"You know? You haven't changed a bit." She giggled. Garrett stood up straight, and took aim at Heleana. Crogg stepped in front of her, but his mistress pushed him away. "No worries; Garrett's bluffing. He doesn't kill." She jeered, lowering her gaze.

"Garrett! GO!" Gwenevere's voice rang out again. Heleana burst out laughing.

"You should listen to her. She knows when she's bested; unlike you."

"Gwenevere. I told you. I'm not letting you out of my sight." He replaced his bow and covered his mouth with the thin black mask. "And I'm certainly not leaving my apprentice in your hands, Heleana."

"Hmmm...I'm sensing a story here..." The Mechanist leader crossed her arms, her lips parting coyly. Gwenevere shook her head as gristly scenes began to flood into her mind.

**********************************

Torn flesh and mutilated bodies. Blood flowing down moss-coated stone steps like a twisted waterfall. A woman being held down and assaulted by men in strange robes, a decapitated head with brunette hair rolling lifelessly across the stone floor. High-pitched shrieks in lost tongue echoed all around her. Bloody tools and objects that had been long since forgotten rested on an old alter with flies hovering above. A young girl was following one of these strange robed men. She didn't know why she was following him; only that he had promised to protect her if she did so.

Protecting her, from what though? What was happening?! She looked to the man who was leading the way. He kept his back to her, as he the child through the darkness. Opening her mouth to speak, she wanted to ask where they were headed. But the stranger spoke first.

"This is far enough." He said before shifting, still keeping his back to her. "You've been the cause of so much of this. Because of you and your accursed brethren..." He gritted his teeth and turned, pulling at the child's bright red hair. "You owe us! And by The Builder, you WILL assist us!"

Then he released her, and the girl's head snapped back as she let out a surprised gasp. Her knees buckled as her tiny body gave out, crumpling to the ground. The man breathed with uneasiness as he slowly approached the girl's body; her green and gold eyes staring up at the night sky, stunned. From the dense, blood-choked forest, the vision of a tall woman burned through her memories. Her hair was a sleek black, and her body a verdant celadon, wrapped in bark and ivy. She stood over the girl, silently whispering into her mind. The words she spoke were few, but prominent.

"Blood. Sacrifice."

********************************************

Gwenevere's eyes suddenly flew open


	24. Chapter 24

Gwenevere's eyes flooded with unrelenting hate. The beast within was claiming her again. She shivered.

For years, she had thought it vanquished; but like so many other great terrors this one could never hope to be smote by cold steel. What happened next was something that no soul within that abandoned house would ever forget. The floor around her began to ooze a thick, black liquid that consumed the members of Heleana's cult. Spiny, undulating coils darted up through the earthen floor, wrenching and tearing at their hapless victims.

"What the hell is that?!" Crogg asked.

"Ancient nature magic." Heleana replied. The Mechanist leader did not wait for the bloodcurdling screams of agony from her men, as their bodies slowly dissolved into the black sludge.

"Heleana! Please...HELP US!" Crogg cried, as his arm began to slide off of the bone. Heleana took one last look a Gwenevere, then stared at him apathetically.

"Help yourself." She hissed, and dashed away from the gruesome goop. The last cries and screams of the doomed men fell silent within seconds. Garrett stared wide-eyed at Gwenevere as her body softened, and came to rest in a broken heap upon the floor. He had a look of blank horror stamped on his face.

"Gwenevere...what did you do?!" Before she could explain, the thief turned on his heel. Retrieving the satchel that Orion had left on the table in his fumbling, he cleared his throat. Gwenevere slunk to his side like a beaten dog.

"Clock Tower. Now."

**********************************

Garrett and Gwenevere walked towards the clock tower in silence. The world was an unreal hue of blue, casting purple shadows across the expanse of the city. The shy girl looked over to her mentor as he continued to walk, staring blankly ahead, a firm frown on his face. He was obviously angry with her. He had good reason to be. Gwenevere decided that it would be wise not to address him until he was ready to talk about whatever troubled him so. She knew that he would eventually bring it up.

The sun rose just as the two rounded the last ally, and approached the steps of the grand tower. Three members of the city watch were lurking about, which never ceased to surprise the young woman. When did they sleep? Garrett put his arm around her protectively, pulling her along as he dashed from shadow to shadow, and into the sheltering grips of his abode. Once he was sure that they were safe, the thief looked downward at his apprentice. Gwenevere returned the gaze, and felt the bundle of nerves in her stomach start to unravel. Maybe he wasn't so mad at her after all.

"Garrett, I'm so relieved! I thought that you were upset with me." She beamed. But as her smile grew wider, she suddenly became quite aware that she was wrong. Her thief looked away, and started walking up the winding stairway. Garrett was beyond thoughts. Everything around him seemed to be warping into chaos.

The Mechanists were back. Heleana, one of his greatest threats from the underworld was their leader. Orion was in on it somehow. His Gwenevere had just viciously, and unnaturally slaughtered a handful of people.

**************************************

The thief slammed the trapdoor shut beneath Gwenevere. She could tell that he was very upset, but she had no idea why. She meekly shuffled her feet and looked down to the patterns in the wood of the floorboards. Pilfur's eyes began to glow green as glass as his mistress entered the dingy domain. Garrett cleared his throat and exhaled a long sigh, and she perked up.

"Gwenevere. Why did you kill those people tonight?" He asked sharply.

"Garrett, I can explain!" She pleaded. "That...was part of my power. I used-"

"I KNOW that you can use magic Gwenevere; that doesn't mean you should be so quick to kill!"

"What would you have me do then? Let them kill you first?!" She retorted in one of her very rare rebellious bouts.

"Usually, I would say that being surrounded like that constitutes killing, yes. It was obviously them or us; and we WERE outnumbered." The thief glared at her with a look that made Gwenevere want to cower. "But I'm with you right now. A Pagan witch. A witch who possesses great skill using the forces of magic."

"Garrett...I-"

"I'm not finished Gwenevere! You could have used that sleep hex you used back at the House of Blossoms, or even a less potent attack. But this?!" His thoughts returned to the gristly remains of bone and black sludge. The thief suddenly became very silent. "I told you once before; I don't work with killers. I thought that was clear."

"It was! It's just-" Gwenevere was now borderline hysterical. She did not like the way this conversation was going. Before she could explain, Garrett spun around and looked her dead in the eyes. There was a deep torment within that peculiar icy blue orb; and it sank the young woman's heart into an unweilding torrent of darkness.

"I thought I could trust you." Gwenevere looked away from him, her body unmoving. She felt as if her heart was in a meat grinder.

"I lost control. That doesn't mean you can't trust me!" She retorted desperately, tears welling up within the corners of her doe-like eyes.

"Oh really? Suppose one of those pools of black goop was to hit me?!"

"I already told you; magic doesn't work that way. I would never will my spells to harm you Garrett. I love you." She whimpered.

His eyes widened as the thief recoiled back at her confession. Gwenevere gasped, realizing her words far too late. Face flushed with embarrassment, her green eyes fell to the floor. Garrett just continued to stare at her. Love. That was a word that he hadn't heard uttered from a woman's lips in what felt like years. And a feeling that he thought he would never feel again. His remaining amber eye glistened with desire at her beauty and bold words.

"Gwenevere. Is that how you really feel?" He inquired, more tenderly than he would have liked. Gwenevere blushed uncontrollably at his words. The thief felt as his heart leapt wildly at the lush pink that lit up her cheeks. What had happened that night still sent chills down his spine; and yet, Garrett found himself feeling...strangly proud. While Gwenevere could have handled the situation more, decorously, she had done it for the same reason she had back in the air shaft.

To protect him.

"Of course I do!" She grinned with childlike delight.

"Gwenevere. Despite the aforementioned, your means were not without an end. I now understand why you did what you did. However..." Gwenevere gasped as Garrett grabbed her and pulled her into his awaiting body. "...I think your next lesson needs to be in subtlety. You can be a bit showy..." He mused dryly.

"I know...I'm sorry, I can't always help it."

"What do you mean?" Gwenevere straightened her posture and tried to smile. As hard as it was, she knew that she had to tell him.

"Garrett?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you ever...have voices inside your head?" Garrett's expression drooped instantly, and a worried frown appeared upon his weathered face.

"Voices? What kind of voices?"

"Well...they tell me to do certain things. But I can't always fully comprehend what they're saying...they speak funny..."

"Alright. Can you give me an example of this, 'funny speaking'?" The thief responded, growing progressively more alarmed.

"They tell me to...oh! This is going to sound silly!" She stopped.

"Humor me." Garrett grinned.

"They tell me to take revenge against the evils of this city. To devour manflesh. I don't know what that is, but lately, I've been having a weird craving for it." Upon hearing her speak these words, Garrett's face contorted in fear. He trembled, feeling as his heart sank to his knees.

"Gwenevere...that's..." He stared at her, unsure how to word the unrelenting turmoil that was going through his mind. Regardless of how he felt about her, this girl was a Pagan. She would always have such thoughts, such animal-like tendencies. He shook his head. No, he couldn't allow such blatant bigotry get the better of him. If there was one thing Gwenevere was good at; it was adapting. Rising up to better herself and conquer her greatest hurdles. He was her teacher. It was his job, nay, his desire; to assist her in that odyssey.

"Garrett? Did I say something bad?" She asked, nervous at what his answer might be.

"These voices...Did they tell you to kill the Mechanists tonight?"

"Yes."

"Gwenevere. What specifically did they tell you. I need to know; word for word. Part of my training as a Keeper was to decipher hidden messages. If this truly is Pagan influence, then I may be able to help you. A bit, anyway. Only Pagans can fully understand Pagan talk, after all." He grumbled.

"They said, 'Blood Sacrifice'." The thief rolled his eyes with a huff.

"Lovely..."

"Garrett! Please! You've got to help me, I want them to stop!" She desperately grabbed at his chest, her eyes overflowing with sappy, yellow tears. The thief was a little unnerved by this, but he did not let her go.

"Gwenevere...what would you have me do?"

"I want it OUT of me! I don't want this festering urge coming between my training any longer. Between us! To lose your trust would bring the deepest realms of my nightmares to life. There is no pain more excruciating, no terror more chilling, no divot more deep and hollow; than the state of my soul upon your departure. These monsters inside of me are thirsting even now for human blood and death. Theys are one only with creatures; theys cares nothing for manfools..." Gwenevere shook her head violently as she caught herself slipping into Pagan dialect. "Until...until I met you. You alone are what keeps me whole; keeps me from retaliating against the modern world and all of its foul ugliness. Without you Garrett... gods have mercy on what would become of me..." Garrett's mind now screamed with emotion. The young woman before him was sincere; he knew that even the Trickster himself could never feign such guise. Gwenevere wanted this to end; she struggled with this 'thing' on a daily basis. If she truly was possessed by some sort of Pagan spirit; the thief wasn't going to allow it to take up permanent residence. One way or another, he would find a way to drive it out of her. A deep-rooted feeling burst forth with primeval prowess. Garrett's firm lips pressed deeply into hers; passion swirling through his heart and enveloping his head in a dense, orange mist. When he finally pulled away, he gave his apprentice a genuine look of intent.

"I will admit; most of that sounded like more crazy Pagan talk. But that last part..." He could not fight off his feelings; no matter how much they interfered with his work. He loved Gwenevere too; and he could dabble in their affair no longer.

She was a precious jewel; and he had to have her all to himself.

"My Gwenevere. I will do everything in my power to help you..."


	25. Chapter 25

Garrett trudged through the chilling rain and sopping mud. He had no idea where he was, how far he had strayed from the city walls. The night around him coupled with the violent storm made visibility extremely poor. He stepped with great care to avoid tripping over the tree roots and boulders which he knew were plentiful in the Pagan Wood. He held his hood tighter around his neck, in a desperate attempt to blot out the blinding rain that was streaming down his sweltering face. At last, in the distance he could barely make out the dying flames of the city torch lights. The thief continued forward, nearly stumbling over a fallen log. At long last, he could finally see the gates of the city come into view. Garrett ran to the gate, his leather boots slipped on the drowned earth, causing him to fall headfirst against the barricade. Blood mixed with the rain and sweat on his desperate face as he barred his fist down against the door, desperately attempting to climb the slippery walls of the heavy gate. A wave of uneasiness coursed through his veins as the muffled sound of laughter emitted from the other side.

"So, are you proud of what you have done?" There was a dark questioning in the unseen ones words, and Garrett still had no idea whom he was speaking to. The storm muffled most of the tone, and what little remained was monotone and genderless. It was like talking to a ghost, or even an animal which had become possessed with speech. It sounded like no one that he had ever known. The laughter subsided, and the large wooden gates slowly opened for him. As he entered, a flash of white light engulfed him, stinging his unsuspecting eyes. Garrett winced, and squeezed his burning eyes tightly closed.

************************************

When his bi-colored irises reopened, he shook his head in confusion. He was back within the Pagan Wood; laying under a weeping willow tree. The thief wasn't sure how he had gotten there, or what had become of the terrible storm, but one thing was obvious to him: The forest was...so alive. Color and light danced across the surface of the vast meadow, and the soft breeze carried with it an air of excitement. The scent of lavender and lily were filling his head with whimsy, while the sight of small creatures and songbirds brought him relaxation. Garrett propped himself into a sitting position, leaning against the bark of the willow for support. As if the day had been waning on for hours, the last of the crimson sun was disappeared between the folds of the leaves overhead, catching the first reflections of the impeding twilight. The thief held his breath in pure awe as the magnificent shades of pinks and vibrant golds lit up the western sky. Through the surrounding greenery, a small sound began to emerge. It started in a low, barely audible whisper, but soon Garrett found himself holding his hands to his ears at the shrill shrieks emitting from the very depths of the foliage.

"I'll ask you again. Are you proud, Garrett? Of what you have done? Of what you have slandered in order to preserve your legacy? Your happiness..." To his horror, a demonic green creature flew from the seemingly out of nowhere. It's body collided with his, forcing the thief to his knees.

Through hazy vision, Garrett stared up at the entity before him. A tall woman, her bark-like flesh a verdant green. She had long, ink black hair and wore a malicious grin upon her lips.

"Viktoria..." He gawked. The wood nymph didn't bother to answer him. Instead, she extended her left hand to his face, and gripped his cheek tightly. Garrett winced as sharp, thorny nails embedded into his flesh, her thumb going the deepest; barely missing his left eye. The thief struggled to pull his face free from the confines of the brutal embrace.

"I ought to take the other one too, after what you've done..." She growled, her high-pitched nymph screech pierching his eardrums. Garrett managed to slip free of her vice-like grip, and turned around to exit the forbidden forest. But no adventure, nor dangerous job could ever have hoped to prepare him for what he saw next.

The once calm forest was now riddled with corpses. Withered, polluted leaves slowly descended into a stagnant stream, careening with toxic black water. As the waters came into contact with the virgin river back, it's disease spread; forever tainting the forest in poisonous death. Garrett gaped in disbelief at the supernatural change of scenery. It was making his head spin.

"What the hell is going on?!" He turned around and screamed. Viktoria was now being consumed by a green flame. Her face was strangely calm as the blaze ate away at her flesh. The hellish fires sizzled into the earth, and the nymph's empty face and pale flesh caused the thief to back away again, placing his palm against the smooth bark of the willow tree.

"I warned you, manfool..." Viktoria spoke in a raspy and unforgiving voice. "We ALL tried to warn you..."

"Warn me? Of what!?" Garrett demanded. The nymph laughed cruelly.

"Not to take her...not to...taint her..." As he listened, Garrett touched his face, where her claws had pierced his flesh. He brought his hand to his face at the texture of a warm liquid. His blood was dark and thick. Cursed. He was now trembling uncontrollably.

"Viktoria! I have done no such thing to Gwenevere! I have helped her, like I tried to help you!" The Woodsie Lady burst out cackling.

"Like you helped me?! So, I understand now. You want her to die too."

"No! I never-"

"-Know this, Master Thief; the future that awaits her shall make my fate pale in comparison. Gwenevere shall suffer like no mortal has ever suffered before...or shall ever suffer again." Garrett's eyes narrowed.

"What are you talking about?! Viktoria?! VIKTORIA!" His voice bellowing above the thunder and wild laughter of the ivy-covered nymph.

*******************************

Garrett shot up in his bed, sweat dripping from his frantic face. Gwenevere had not been awakened, thankfully.

"Some rogue you are, Gwenevere. You've always been such a heavy sleeper..." He murmured aloud. He traced his cheek, feeling to make sure that Viktoria's attack had not left a mark. But to his horror, one small indent did remain. The thief sprung from his bed and rushed up the stairway.

"No...that's impossible..." He grumbled, grabbing up his dagger. Using it as a makeshift mirror, Garrett examined his face. There was a tiny, round scar now donning his left cheek, just below his eye. "How is this possible?" He asked, tracing the contours of his face. But his befuddlement and anxiety would both have to wait.

For now.

A gentle flapping of clumsy wings caused the thief to stand. Garrett walked warily to the clock tower window. If it was Jenivere, what would Basso possibly want at this hour? But sure enough; it was.

"Jenivere-" His voice shook slightly at the sight of the flailing magpie. She was covered in blood, mostly around the proud, shiny feathers on her chest. Garrett gingerly took the bird up in his hands, feeling as her last breath left her body. His eyes instantly sought out Pilfur, who was lying at the far corner of the second floor; his green eyes aglow.

"Damned cat!" He growled. Putting Jenivere's lifeless body down respectfully atop his desk, the thief stormed towards the unsuspecting kitten. "What have you done?!" Pilfur got up and hissed at the shady human who had dared to scold him.

"Garrett. Stop." Gwenevere's soft voice rang from behind. Garrett whirled around, completely surprised that his apprentice had managed to approach him without notice.

"Gwenevere? When did you get up?"

"That doesn't matter Garrett. We need to go; now!"

"What!? Why?"

"Basso might be in real trouble."

"Basso?" The thief rushed towards her. "What do you mean he might be in trouble?!"

"Pilfur didn't do this. Look." The young woman pointed to the deep gash on the boxman's pet. Garrett examined the injury closely.

It didn't take him very long to recognize it.

"An arrow wound?"

"Someone must have shot her mid-air. Perhaps to prevent her from successfully delivering a message to you." Garrett's expression paled. It was true; Basso only sent the magpie to his clock tower when he needed to relay something. The thief's posture stiffened. Turning to his apprentice, he clasped her wrists tightly with passion.

"Gwenevere. I have to go. Basso's in danger."

"I'm coming with you!" Garrett pressed a finger to her trembling lips.

"No. No you're not."

"Garrett!"

"Listen to me Gwenevere. You need to listen for once. I..." He hesitated, not sure if he wanted to divulge another piece of his soul to her so soon. "Look...There's something that I never told you."

"What is it?"

"Gwenevere. I haven't been with that many women over my life. Most of the women I've slept with meant absolutely nothing to me. It was nothing but mutual, mindless sex. I've only ever allowed myself to fall in love once before. The reason being that I didn't want to endanger the people I care most about. You've undoubtably noticed how I treat Basso. I may not like to admit it at times, but the old bloke's like a brother to me. I've saved his ass more times than I can remember; at great risk to my own. I learned a very long time ago that having a gracious and loyal heart can be a huge weakness in my line of work. There are some rotten taffers out there, like Heleana, that will try to gain leverage over you through your loved ones. Anytime that a mate of mine got arrested, I was always the one to break them out. When they needed a favor, I was there. I may not always act it Gwenevere, but I'm not made of stone. I know this, you know it too. And unfortunately, so do most of my enemies. That is why I deign from engaging in matters of the heart." He explained. Gwenevere was as silent as the stars overhead; earnestly hanging on his every word. The thief cupped her cheek in his palm, and stroked her delicate flesh with his calloused thumb. His face was a pallet of mixed emotions. "Gwenevere. Try to understand. If I were to take you along, and something happened to you out there..." He pleaded.

Gwenevere's eyes shimmered like diamonds. Without a moments thought, she embraced her thief, and felt his kisses consume her.

"I understand. You just better be alright!" She smiled, trying to conceal her worry. The thief withdrew, and gently put both hands over her shoulders. His magnificent eyes fell into a sea of emerald and golden swirls.

"So long as you are here waiting for me, I shall."

With that final sentiment, Garrett threw his cloak over his shoulders, and prepared to descend from the clock tower.


	26. Chapter 26

The thief arrived at the Crippled Burrick within the hour. As he entered Basso's hovel, he was greeted by a very flustered Orion. The thief silently crept up on the middle-aged man, rage blazing within his eyes. He had quite a few questions for this so-called saviour of the people.

"Looking for something?" Garrett's sly voice caught the intruder off-guard. Orion jumped, grasping at his chest.

"Augh! Garrett...i-it's just you..." He managed a weak smile. The thief was far from amused.

"Just me, eh?" He feigned a low chuckle. "Where's Basso, Orion?"

"I-I don't know! I just got here; I came looking for that book you stole for me last week!"

"I see..." As Orion began to relax a bit, Garrett suddenly rushed forward. Taking his left hand, he grabbed Orion by the shirt, pulling free and positioning his dagger in the right. His usually placid personality had taken a dramatic shift. Orion began to pant as the blade edged ever closer to his throat.

"Cut the crap Orion! I want to know where my friend is, and I want to know now!"

"G-Garrett! I really have no-" A slight pin-prick from the sharp dagger silenced him. Garrett's eyes were blazing with firm intent.

"I have a policy against killing; but I don't need to kill you to make you talk Orion. So what's it gonna be?"

"I-I'll talk! The watch came. They took Basso, alright?!"

"Not good enough!" Garrett growled through his teeth, scrunching up the base of Orion's shirt collar, his knuckles turning white. "What the hell were you doing yesterday night with Heleana?!"

"I...I was just dropping off some things she ordered, that's all!" The thief edged the blade closer to Orion's neck. He yelped as a thin trickle of blood kissed the tip. Garrett's grip tightened, making breathing difficult.

"For someone who claims that they want to clean up this city, you're sure full of shit..." The thief sneered. "I heard everything. What's she planning?!"

"I honestly don't know, alright?! All I can say, is that it involves ancient relics, and the Primal stone."

"What of Basso? Where was he taken? Prison? Or the Baron's Keep?"

"The Keep! The Keep! Now, will you please let me go?!" Giving him one last grip of agony, Garrett dropped Orion, who collapsed into a trembling heap at his feet.

"And by the way; I'm nobodies fool. You and your 'partner' would do best to remember that.

***********************************

Garrett entered the musty chamber, the sounds of the starving and tortured prisoners within burning his eardrums. It wasn't exactly easy to penetrate the place, but he had managed somehow. The worst of the night's ordeals were over; or, so he thought. Now, all he had to do was track down the boxman.

The thief paced by each cell, taking the time to peer between the stale iron bars for his missing friend. He managed to locate Basso, at the furthest cell on the left. He was huddled in the corner, looking positively downtrodden.

"Room service." Garrett's dry wit was music to the boxman's ears. He was on his feet instantly, galloping to the door of his primitive cage.

"About time you showed up!' He joked.

"Yeah? Thought you'd be used to prison by now..." The thief grinned as he fiddled the lockpicks between his deft fingers. Within moments, the barred door creaked open. Basso stepped out and popped his lower back.

"Christ, those rooms are tiny!" He groaned. Garrett gave him a warm grin.

"You alright?"

"Yeah, yeah. Sure. I'm fine." Basso responded as he walked past the thief, although Garrett could see an obvious limp in his left leg. "How's a...how's Gwenevere? She didn't come with you, did she?" He looked around warily.

"I know better than to bring her here. She'd be in too much danger."

"Yeah, or more likely; you, would be in danger Garrett!" Garrett stopped walking, and abruptly crossed his arms.

"You have something to say Basso?"

"Damn straight I've got something to say! I overheard some of the watch dogs talking after they concluded their 'generous escort' to my room." He mused sourly. "Apparently, Master Simmons has upped her bounty significantly." Garrett ran his thumb over his chin.

"I see." Basso's jovial disposition suddenly shifted to very serious. He locked eyes with his mate.

"Garrett. I know we already talked, and I know that you said you were fine. Call me a stubborn arse, but I still think that the gal has to go. Her rich daddy's offering more for her return now than even you can swipe in a year! Do you know how much negative publicity that's bound to get?!"

"I can imagine. I swipe a lot in a year. Come to think of it, does Lord Simmons even have that much coin?" The thief chuckled. Basso shook his head.

"You're a stubborn one Garrett; always have been."

"And yet you always seem so surprised Basso. Come on. Let's get you out of here."

******************************************

The two men navigated through the tight corridors and crannies until they eventually came to the marked double doors at the back of the Baron's Keep.

"I can take it from here Garrett. Thanks a lot." Basso smiled, still limping slightly with every step.

"Are you sure?" The thief asked, concerned. The boxman waved him off.

"Yeah. You go on ahead and take a gander around the place if you like." He started away. "Who knows? You might find something nice for Gwenevere!" He winked. Garrett scoffed, watching as his mate scrambled off into the shadows, shaking his head. He reached up to shut the doorway with utmost discretion...

_ SWIP!_

A sudden, stinging pressure came down hard upon Garrett's left hand. He pulled back in shock, and gaped when he beheld the large bolt piercing through his glove, burrowing deeply into his flesh. Garrett grunted, feeling as the pain intensified. From around the corner of the dimly lit alleyway, an all too familiar voice taunted him.

"Breaking your fellow vermin from their rightful cages, eh?" Garrett's eyes narrowed as he looked up to meet none other than the sadistic gaze of the Thief-Taker General. "You've been a very naughty boy; Master Thief." Garrett fought to hide the stabbing agony as he tore the bolt from his hand. The brave rogue wasn't about to scream for this psycho. He turned to flee, but found that his feet remained cemented to the cobblestone. The general began to smile dementedly.

"We've become such good friends over your petty burglaries, haven't we?" The general advanced upon his prey, twirling a fat finger around his moustache. "And what kind of friend would I be, if I didn't get you a little pressie now and again, eh? After all, you did give me this fashionable false leg last year..." Desperate to get the hell out of there, Garrett tried once again to dart away into the alley after Basso. He managed a single, heavy step just as a wave of dizziness began to wash over him. The world spun, and he felt like he was going to be ill. The Thief-Taker General smirked in a way that made him feel very uneasy.

"Do you know how long that I've waited for this day? Ever since you took away my dignity that night, you've been nothing but a constant thorn in my side." He hissed, leering down at the thief. Garrett smirked weakly.

"...For once...I...can't take credit for that theft..."

"What did you just say to me, scum!?" The general hoisted him up off the ground by the throat, pressing his body against the brick wall.

"I...didn't take your dignity from you...you stole it all on your own..."

"Filthy bastard...I'll make you eat those words!" The general hissed and spat at Garrett. "Consider them your last meal; Master Thief..." And with those words, Garrett felt a sharp punch to his stomach. The intense pain, blood loss, and the effects of the drugged bolt caused his head to go spinning again. Within seconds, he was out cold.


	27. Chapter 27

When Garrett awoke, he found himself in a dimly lit room. He struggled to move, but found that his hands were strapped down in front of him. From what he could tell, he was in the grips of a chair of some kind. The thief tried to stand, but both of his legs were cuffed in heavy iron shackles. A wave of fear suddenly washed over him. Was this it? How was he going to get out of this mess? As he writhed, a familiar click clack of a walking cane found his ears. Garrett flinched. He knew exactly who it was.

"Good morning, Rat King. Did you sleep well?" The Thief-Taker general emerged into the sickly yellow light. Garrett glowered up at him from his bonds. The general's eyes were filled with a volatile mixture of wicked malice; and unspeakable cruelty. Garrett didn't answer him, which didn't bother his captor in the slightest.

"You're not much of a talker, are you Garrett? He leaned forward on his cane, staring pensively at the thief. "In fact, the only time I think you've ever spoken to me before tonight, was when you humiliated me back at the whore house. What was it you told me again? Be nice to the ladies...erm, something like that." He twirled at his moustache again.

"Something like that, yes." Garrett grumbled. The general's eyes suddenly became alive with fiery lust.

"Who...who was that delightful little filly you had with you that night? I'd be more than happy to be nice to her..." The general grinned knowingly. "...after you're hung tomorrow." Garrett's eyes narrowed at the taunt.

"Sorry general, but she has standards." He replied cooly. The general feigned a hearty laugh, but then abruptly rammed his cane into Garrett's fresh injury. The bone crunched under the heavy strike, and blood trickled free as the general twisted his tool of torture into Garrett's flesh. Garrett's hazel eye filled with uncontrollable tears, and the veins in his throat tensed at the unexpected trauma. The general smirked with malevolent pleasure as his loud, unending melody of pain filled the room.

*******************************

Gwenevere's teeth clenched in time to Garrett's agonized cry. She guessed that her thief might require some assistance in his rescue, and despite her mentor's heartfelt orders, she had come to make sure. But the young woman's worry had turned out to be well-founded indeed. She had initially planned on simply following Garrett around, undetected.

But now...

Upon surveying the scene, watching that bastards torture; her eyes blazed like wildfire, as her most deep-rooted hatred was unleashed. Emerging from the shadows, Gwenevere gave a throat-shattering roar. Through a red haze, Garrett looked up to meet her gaze. His heart nearly stopped.

"Gwenevere! What-" Before he could think to scold her for disobeying his orders; or warn her to stay back, the Thief-Taker General's eyes locked with hers. Gwenevere stood, her posture tense, every part of her body screaming challenge to the fool who had dared hurt her thief. The general gave a bemused snicker.

"Ahh, and this must be the Queen then..." He leered at her. "So, it would seem that I have captured a pair of rats within my little trap." He thought his quip rather clever, oblivious to just who the young woman before him truly was. Or what she was capable of. Her burgundy lips parted, and in a tone which Garrett had never heard out of her before, a single sentence emerged.

"Let him go..."

The general boomed with laughter. Throwing his hands in the air, he chortled some more, and waltzed towards Gwenevere. Having constantly bared witness to this man's sadism, Garrett hollered after her.

"Gwenevere! Get out of here!" However, his words fell on deaf ears. His young apprentice was now lost in a place where he could never contact her; never reach her.

Never warn her.

"Such bold vermin ilk." He held out his crossbow to her chest, and Garrett felt his blood run cold.

"GWENEVERE!"

"Such a pity..." The general chuckled with a sigh, "you're such a pretty..." Gwenevere was now tightening her fists, her every hair standing on end. Unbeknownst to the two men before her, an ancient magic was now weaving its way through her veins. And it was a power, which would slander and shame any of her previously revealed abilities. For this was beyond mere spells and hexes.

The energy which now consumed her person; was the power of a deity.

The general squinted his eye, his finger stroking the trigger. Garrett called out to her, in one last moment of desperation.

"GWENEVERE! GET OUT OF HERE!"

"You should have listened to your King. Adieu." The Thief-Taker General blew Gwenevere a mocking kiss, lined up his mark, and pulled the trigger.

The projectile whizzed through the air at undetectable speed. Garrett closed his eyes, not wishing to watch Gwenevere meet her untimely demise. The young woman wasted no time. In an instant, she reacted. Bolting to the side with an inhuman speed, Gwenevere sunk to her knees. The Thief-Taker General gawked at her trick, temporarily rendered speechless. It was all the time Gwenevere needed.

With energy as old as the world itself, her body began to twist and reshape. Thick verdant vines crept around her arms and legs, slowly inching their way up her body, and leafy vegetation began to sprout out of her back, followed by her thighs and arms. Her delicate facial features became distorted and ugly, as the bark-like maw and powerful thorny jaws of the monster she was becoming became obvious. Her small ears lengthened and sprouted soft downy moss, while her green eyes became a mystical swirl of yellow and deep celadon. Her long slender hands sprouted flora and vines, followed by long deadly wooden claws. A rooted tail protruded out of her leather pants, growing vegetation and leaves, until it tapered down her back into a plume of lush ivy leaves and tiny flowers. The rest of her clothing ripped away as Gwenevere reached the end of her transformation. She tore off the last shreds of her clothing, and then howled at the mortified general. Gwenevere reared up, her great wooden paws slamming hard against her victim's shoulders. The weight of their impact knocked the general off his feet, and pound his skull into the hard floor. Blood splattered in all directions. He frantically reached for his crossbow, as the lion-sized paws continued to come crashing down upon him. Gwenevere's body hammered in place, and the general was left helplessly, staring up into the horrifying ancient eyes of a monster. A monster which he had foolishly provoked. Gwenevere snarled, her two-inch fangs bared. The weak saffron light glinted off their ligneous surface, and highlighted the horrified expression of her victim. Gwenevere gave a bloodcurdling roar as the general managed to thrust one of his bolts into her right thigh. The sudden pain prompted her to react. With wild tenacity, Gwenevere's great maw opened around his upper torso.

In one brutal, slicing motion, the scissor-like thorns came together through flesh, bone and organ. Her bite had been clean; but it had not been a complete separation.

And certainly not enough to kill instantly.

The Thief-Taker General emitted an inhuman shriek as unimaginable excruciation blew up inside his head. Still very much alive, he writhed and twitched in agony. The last thing the general saw, were his intestines sprawled out before his very eyes.

************************************

Gwenevere regained her true form, and hesitantly approached Garrett. Due to the transformation, she was now nude. But the thief's mind was too consumed with terror to register upon her supple flesh. Gwenevere sensed this, and her own fear doubled that of the thief.

Would he love her? How could he possibly...after...

Green light buzzed from her fingers, slicing effortlessly through Garrett's shackles and straps. Gwenevere sank to her knees, and watched him stand. She closed her eyes, ashamed of what she had just done. No man could love such a beast. Not even one as wonderful as her thief. Filled with this epiphany, the young woman began to quietly sob.

"Gwenevere." Garrett's smokey voice called out to her. Gwenevere jumped, then met his gaze; eyes glassy and wide. The thief before her didn't know quite how to react to what he had just witnessed.

He had always known that the girl had a secret, but this...

"Garrett, please! I can explain..." She blurted, desperate not to loose him. Garrett remained solemn, never even blinking. Gwenevere continued to watch as his face remained still. Her eyes flooded with tears.

He hated her. Ashamed, she let her head drop back down, waves of auburn falling in front of her face. As she mourned her loss, a sudden warmth found her shoulders. Looking to the sides of her body, the young woman was surprised to find the thick cloak draped around her shoulders. Gwenevere looked up at Garrett, who was still watching her.

"You should bring a change of clothes if you're going to do that." He remarked. The young woman's eyes began to sparkle. He was smiling down at her, with utmost sincerity.

"T-then...you don't think that I'm an abomination?!"

"No. Why would I think that?"

"Because I-"

"Used yet another spell? Trust me; I'm used to it by now."

"Garrett. That wasn't a spell." She proclaimed. At first, the thief thought that she was joking, and he smirked. But when her posture remained oddly serious, his inital assumption was proven very wrong.

"It wasn't..." He told himself, as if reaffirming this new set of information, "Well then, what the hell did I just see?!" Gwenevere sighed, and readied herself. She exhaled, and began to speak.

I'm not really a human Garrett; at least not entirely. This might sound crazy to you, but my mother...she was a forest nymph." The thief's eyes widened at her confession.

He had met a forest nymph many years ago; named Viktoria.

"That's not so hard for me to belive Gwenevere. I've...I've met a nymph before you." The young woman looked up, her eyes now swimming with salty tears.

"You don't have to belive me, that's fine. But please, please don't patronize me Garrett." She sniffed.

"I wasn't! Her name was Viktoria."

Gwenevere gasped. Her tears collected on the floor before her like blood, and her chest began to palpitate. Without her realizing, a firm yet comforting hand found her feverish cheek. The young woman looked up, to meet an intense gaze of hazel and silver.

Fire and ice.

"You once asked me how I lost my eye; do you remember? It was due to her; in part. She was working for a demon at the time, and he used my eye for a Pagan ritual. Viktoria was the one to claim it for him." Garrett felt a rush of cold wash over him. He had never told anyone the truth about his eye; not even Basso.

"She...she took your eye?!" Gwenevere was speechless. It didn't make sense. She turned away from her thief.

No! That was impossible. Garrett had to be lying to her. But a part of her knew, that he would never do anything to mislead or betray her. He was her mentor, her guide through this crazy world. Her beloved thief. Even when he had disliked her with a vengeance, even when it would have been so easier to leave her to die; Garrett had remained loyal to her. To their teacher student relationship; a relationship that had grown into something far more precious and cherished.

"Yes..." He squeezed his eyes tightly closed. The memory of that horrible ritual. Of that horrible night.

The thief was no stranger to fear. But over his years of apprenticeship under the Keepers, Garrett had learned to channel fear and adrenaline into a drive that would only forward his endeavours. He had been taught that all fears were composed of everyday occurrences. A very true statement. Even the worst of fears; of death, torture, and denial. As frightening as they were, they were still just everyday occurrences; and they could be avoided, or in the case of death, at least postponed.

But what he had witnessed that night with Viktoria and Constantine, or as he was truthfully known; The Trickster...

That, was NOT an everyday occurrence. That, was the reveal of an ancient demon, and an untamed nature spirit. Watching as the old man's face contorted into an animalistic beast. Being flung several feet and then pinned and gouged by the limbs of forest nymph.

That, was perhaps the most frightening moment of Garrett's entire life.

"I don't understand. Why would she..." Garrett snapped back to the present as he noticed the young woman trembling under his cloak. Her tears resumed. "Why would she do that to you?!"

"Viktoria was above human reasoning. To her, all that mattered was protecting the old ways. She would have done anything to keep her forest alive. To protect it from the age of metal..." His mind screamed at him again. He knew this fact, all too well. For Garrett had watched her do it. She had paid the ultimate price to save what she believed in. What she lived for. What she loved.

Gwenevere stopped weeping and with a cold glare of unspeakable loss, she screamed at him.

"I know that Garrett! She was my mother!" Garrett's eyes widened.

"You're...mother?!"

"Yes."

"Why didn't you tell me this sooner?!"

"Because..." Gwenevere stood, letting his cloak fall from her body. Garrett quickly averted his eyes. "You never asked. Besides, it's not like you would have believed me."

"You're...probably right." Garrett grunted, fighting to slow the flow of blood to his hardening groin. Gwenevere took up some stray pieces of fabric from the lining of her destroyed outfit and approached Garrett. The thief was in shock, following his apprentices' dramatic secret. He barely felt as Gwenevere began to dress his wound. A few bones in his hand had been broken by the Thief-Taker General's torture, but it was nothing that Gwenevere didn't know how to fix.

As the young woman worked, a sudden revelation crossed Garrett's weary mind. He had slept with Viktoria; and Gwenevere was only HALF nymph. He stared a her through the corner of his eye. Was there even the slightest possibility?

A foreign sensation flooded his senses. Garrett wasn't certain what it was; he hadn't felt it before. But whatever it was, it only seemed to grow worse the more he thought about the possibility of Gwenevere being his daughter.

"So, Viktoria was you mother then?"

"Yes. I can't belive that you actually knew her." Garrett scoffed.

If that wasn't the biggest understatement of the year...

A sickening coldness overtook him. If the young woman WAS his child; what would that mean? Had he...unwittingly done the unthinkable with his own blood?! Were his feelings for her even valid anymore? He looked down at his feet, hiding a mortified grimace from her.

That's when he noticed the green, sappy blood pooling at his apprentices' feet.

"Gwenevere! What's happened to you?!" He demanded. The young woman looked up from bandaging the thief's hand, and blinked.

"What do you mean?" She asked.

"You're bleeding!" Curiously, her green eyes followed the direction Garrett was pointing. Upon eyeing the sappy fluid, the young woman gasped. She hadn't even pulled free the bolt yet, and yet her own injury oozed profusely. Her eyes widened. Man-made weapons were her only weakness. The only real threat to her. If she didn't get that accursed object out of her flesh, and quickly, she would be asking for unspeakable realms of trouble. Frantically, she reached down to retrieve the projectile...

"NO!" Garrett's firm warning halted her progress.

"B-but it's-"

"Gwenevere, listen to me!" He yelled, in a voice bordering on panic. "You've lost too much blood already. That bolt; it's the only thing keeping life inside of your body. If you take it out..." Gwenevere's pupils dilated. How could she have been so foolish?!

"Garrett..." She began. Just when she considered her debt paid, Garrett had done it again. Her thief had once again saved her life. Consumed by deep passion, she started to take a step forward. Then, she stopped. The injury to her thigh suddenly felt...strange. With a trembling hand, she reached down to touch her blood. Bringing the hand up to her face, Gwenevere gasped. The once yellow sap had begun to taint into a sickly dark green. Seeing this, a flustered Garrett spoke to her.

"Why did it change like that?!" Gwenevere looked into his eyes, and her vision began to swim and cloud. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came. Her breath was shallow at best, and heavy with a noxious heat. As her eyes began to close, she fell to her knees.

"Garr-ett..." She wheezed.

"Gwenevere!" He bolted upright, ready to aid her. With one final defeated sigh, her body slumped forward, Garrett barely managing to catch her. He felt his eyes widen at the sight of her. He squatted, and pulled her twisted body into his lap. Gwenevere gasped for air and Garrett felt her body relax. She opened her eyes and smiled weakly at her beloved teacher.

"Thank you, Garrett..."

"Shhh, don't try to speak." He instructed. The distraught thief watched her as she struggled to inhale and exhale. He had known that she was hurt very badly, but because it was internal, Garrett wasn't able to see the true extent of her damage. Such as the blood-thinning poison that now coursed though her veins; steadily killing her. His mind was racing.

He had been through so very much in his lifetime, and this was indeed the first time in which the wily rogue had felt so helpless. He knew that he had to somehow get her out of here and to his clock tower. But with the city watch, that would be no easy task. And even if he managed to succeed, how was he going to treat her? A wanted man couldn't simply waltz into medical clinic, missing Simmons daughter in tow. Garrett looked down into her soft face, and stroked her overheated forehead. A primal and agonizing terror shook his bones, causing him to shiver.

Gwenevere. What am I going to do? Just when I was...am I truly going to lose you now?

That's when his exhausted mind finally remembered. There was a miracle tonic that he had stolen for a client during the week that Gwenevere had been living on her own. It was said to cure any ailment. Garrett had never put much trust in modern medicine, and the idea of using Gwenevere as a guinea pig caused his stomach to churn. But it was his only chance at saving her life; and he had to take it.

Giving a decisive nod, the thief pulled as hard as he could. He winced as the fire reignited within his injured hand. He clenched his teeth, and tried again. But with his broken hand and shattered digits, it was hopeless.

"Garrett, here..." Gwenevere offered. Extending her hand to his, a soothing green light wrapped its way around the injury. The thief gasped as he watched his injury heal. Relief was replaced by discomfort as he watched his wound begin to appear upon her own hand. Garrett was speechless. She was absorbing his pain!

"Gwenevere! Enough! You've already taken more than enough damage!" He ordered. But she refused to listen.

"You always were such an arrogant taffer Garrett...Let someone help you for a change..." She smiled her wild grin. Garrett shuddered as he watched her hand distort into a broken, bloody pulp. It was almost unbearable, as he watched the agony illuminate within her fading emerald eyes. Gwenevere grimaced and allowed her brutalized hand to fall away, leaving the thief's torn glove behind; flawless flesh underneath. Then, with one final weak lurch, the nymph wrapped her arms around his back and neck.

"My Gwenevere..." Garrett fought back tears of empathy and desperation as he lifted Gwenevere from the filthy stone floor. His posture stiffened when he noticed that her body was growing cold and hard, like the bark of an ancient tree.

"Stay with me Gwenevere; you're going to make it!"


	28. Chapter 28

Baron Northcrest strode down the hallway of his keep. He looked around apprehensively, then walked up to the entrance of the torture chamber, where the captain of the city watch was waiting for him.

"Captain Monroe." He greeted with a worried tone.

"Baron Northcrest. The scene is just this way." The baron nodded, and made his way into the dimly lit room. His footsteps echoed off the stone floor and metal walls. He didn't have to venture far into the room to catch a glimpse of the crime scene.

If the baron was at all disgusted or shocked by the grotesque imagery before him; he hid it well.

The room reeked of blood. On the left side of the room, was a wooden chair, with various brown leather straps and iron shackles attached for holding down torture victims. The baron noticed that all appeared to be sliced clean through. Even the heavy metal cuffs bore near perfect slices, their edges charred.

"What trickery is this?" The elderly man murmured. He glanced around and noticed two long splintered wooden tables. These held various sharp tools, poisons, and other implements of torture. At the center of the room, was where most of the blood was. Several scraps of black leather lay strewn round a lifeless form. The body was sprawled out in a gristly heap of exposed entrails and bone.

The Thief-Taker General.

His dark brown irises were contracted almost completely, his face permanently baring its last look of contorted, unimaginable suffering.

"By the gods, what has happened?!" Elias Northcrest asked somberly, bringing his wrist up across his face, hoping to blot out the stench of exposed organ. His only reply was silence; the general's lifeless eyes staring into infinity. He stepped back, taking another look around. That's when he noticed the drops of sick green blood leading out of the room.

"What is that? Did...did someone escape?" He asked, still mortified as one of the guards approached his side.

"More along the lines of fled, my lord. And we have a pretty good idea as to who it was." Baron Northcrest looked back at the slaughtered general and felt his insides churn. What monster could possibly be capable of such a diabolical act? The captain of the watch was the one to answer his quandary, bringing forth a long dark grey quiver.

"So far, we've recovered two vital bits of evidence that point to a prime suspect. Those shards of black leather indicate a struggle, and this..." The captain disdainfully patted the quiver, loosening one of the arrows as he did so. "Belongs to one of our cities most wanted criminals. If you ask me, it seems a bit too coincidental. Especially when you consider who it was that he murdered..." The baron turned to the general one last time, before closing his tired eyes in deep thought.

"What is this lead suspect's name?" He asked, rubbing his temples.

"Garrett. Master Thief."


	29. Chapter 29

THE PAGAN WOOD:

SIXTEEN YEARS AGO:

_ The little girl's body cowered and quaked in terror. The scent of blood was overwhelming, causing her to gag and choke with every breath. She covered her eyes and yelped as another soul fell face first into the mud, wretched beast of iron and smog standing over him; tearing at his flesh. She looked around at the burning village, and her face paled as hordes of these metal creatures darted behind her. They were so cruel, and so foreboding. Her eyes squeezed shut again as another scream filled the hollow night air with tragedy. This time, it was a voice Gwenevere recognized; it was her best friend, Alyeena. The sweet little girl, although a few years older than she, had been the only child in the village who had treated her as a playmate. Not as a chosen child of legend. When she was with her, Gwenevere actually felt...normal. The child looked up and shakily stood. She had to find her caretakers, and get out of this place! Her mother was already dead, and never before had Gwenevere yearned for the safety of her branches more than she did at that moment. Gwenevere began to run, her bare feet nearly slipping upon the tainted mud. _

_"Vivileena! Deen! Where bes yous?!" She cried out, the wind and thunder draining out her tiny voice. However, her words were not unnoticed._

_ Suddenly, a cold rush of smoke engulfed her, and a harsh breeze knocked her down. Gwenevere fell into an untended rose bush, the sharp thorns raking across her flesh and tearing at her clothes. Through her pain, she saw three tall hooded figures advancing upon her. She gasped, and backed further into the bush, even as the thorns went deeper into her arms and back. The middlemost entity was by far the largest and most frightening. His maddened eyes locked onto her fragile and helpless form, and pulled free a long silver blade. Gwenevere cried out again and shielded herself with her arm as the man brought the sword down. Then, he grunted as she opened her eyes. The blade was an inch from her throat. She began to breathe again as the tall figure begrudgingly sheathed his weapon. _

_"This is the one we've been searching for. We shall not, nay, we cannot touch her." Gwenevere gasped as the three hooded men pulled her from her bed of blood and thorns. She could not move, still paralyzed in terror. From her right, she felt a sickening presence. She looked up to the only willow tree in the small burg, still sitting alone through the chaos. But then the child saw something else. Her eyes narrowed to focus through the smoke, and her heart froze. _

_ Lord Vladimir Simmons stood there; a tattered black cloak donning his shoulders. It flowed through the flames of the torched houses like an unholy black flag. Her enchanted green irises locked with his, and the world faded._

*****************************  
>THE CITY<br>PRESENT DAY:

The moon did not show in the sky rich with smoke and screams. Through the turmoil and chaos, a figure made their way through the city. Once bathed in an ostentagious white glow, the streets were now dead; their glass lanterns shattered by the rioters. It was just the opportunity that the unseen thief needed. Garrett had never been a believer in neither luck or karma, but some unseen force was watching over him that night; this he knew. And he was grateful.

Gwenevere was wrapped in the confines of his warm cloak, growing ever more listless by the minute. In a frantic, yet almost inaudible voice, the master thief continued to urge her forward; beckoning her fleeting spirit to remain within her body. To maintain her focus, and to prevent her exhausted eyelids from closing into final slumber, he would ask her questions, or make notes of what was going on during the lonesome trek back towards the clock tower. Anything, he told himself; as long as it kept her alive.

"Gwenevere. Can you feel the rain?" He asked as the first droplets of a midnight downpour found his flesh. The nymph girl deigned to answer him with words. Now bordering on the brink of death, she managed only a light moan within her stale throat. "Gwenevere!" Garrett demanded, shaking her as her body began to relax a little too much for his liking. The thief stopped his procession, and knelt. Still clutching her close to his chest, he stared longingly into her soft features. She looked nothing like him, yet her resemblance to her mother was almost uncanny. Black hair replaced by red; untamed tenacity by gentle innocence. The darkness at the back of his mind began to torment him again. If she was his daughter...oh gods! What had he done?!

"Garrett..." Her whispers found his ears, bringing with them the first sparks of hope the thief had felt all night.

"Yes! What is it, my Gwenevere?"

"Where are...where are you taking me?"

"To the clock tower. I have a tonic there that..." He hesitated, not wishing to give her false hope when he barely clung to any himself. "Well, it might help you." Gwenevere's eyes widened, bringing a fleeting glance of her usual overabundance of energy back into her features.

"No Garrett. Manmade medicines will have no effect on me. I need...to return to the forest. Take me there." She ordered.

"Gwenevere. I may only have enough time to get you back to the tower. If we arrive in the Pagan Woods, and don't find the help you seek..." A chill ran down his spine. Sensing his fears, Gwenevere graced her injured hand lovingly across his damp cheek. Tears fell from her eyes, mingling with the cold winter rain.

"I know that you have problems trusting people, and you're even worse at listening." He shuddered as her nails traced the outline where his chin met his throat. The nymph's eyes danced. " But you have to trust me now. Listen to me this once, and I swear I shall never direct you again. YOU are the master, after all..." She breathed out a raspy breath. Garrett smiled softly, and lifted her against his chest.

"Even the master can sometimes learn a thing or two from the apprentice; Gwenevere..."

********************************

Upon her arrival, the forest seemed to hold its breath. Even the ancient trees ceased to sway within the torrent of the storm, and the fireflies let their lights go out.

Their last hope, was now at death's door.

Garrett's boots made light crunching sounds as they met with the dead leaves and discarded tree branches of the forest floor. He was no longer ill at ease within this place. His only thought now, the only drive he had left; was to save the life of the little nymph he cared so much for.

Be she his lover, or his very blood; the thief did not want her to die.

"Garrett..." Gwenevere's soft voice seemed to cut the tension of the world around her.

"Yes Gwenevere?" His face wore a dark look of dire crisis.

"Take me..to the river." She shook violently as the icy winter winds whipped through her damp red hair. Her lips quivering and chapped, she looked her thief dead in the eyes. "You...you do k-know where the...r-river is? D-don't you?" Garrett managed a solemn smile, and gave a decisive nod.

"Yes Gwenevere. I know where it is." He averted his eyes and scanned the dense foliage. At least, he thought that he knew where it was. He hadn't been to the Pagan river in almost two decades. The last time he had beheld that sparkling body of water...it had been while in 'her' company. Pushing away those same nagging nightmares, Garrett continued forward.

He hadn't taken but two more steps, when a faint sound caught his acute ears. Garrett's eyes narrowed.

It wasn't an animal, this much he knew.

In an abrupt swift motion, he whirled around and glared at the source. A man stood before him, wearing a dark brown robe and carrying an intricate wooden staff.

"Take one more step, and I'll not let you take another." The thief snarled. He wasn't feeling particularly honor-bound at the moment. Whether it was against his credo or not, Garrett was intent on killing this man if he even suspected a threat towards his injured Gwenevere.

"Peace outsider. I mean neither you nor the nymph any harm." The stranger spoke in a low, serious tone.

"You know what she is?! Explain yourself!" Garrett growled.

"Introductions can wait, manfool. I must get the Last Mother to the sacred spring, else all is lost!" The man then dropped his staff, and extended his arms towards Gwenevere. "Let me take her." Garrett locked eyes with him.

"Not a chance!"

"Garrett..." Gwenevere wheezed. The thief reluctantly let his domineering gaze leave the Pagan and stared pensively at her.

"What is it?"

"Listen to him..."

"I can get you there myself Gwenevere. I'm not about to let this cultist take charge of you!" The elder did not like the way this outsider was speaking to him.

Almost uncontrollably, he dropped his ruse. His form shot up several feet in the air, sprouting bark and branches. Garrett held Gwenevere tighter against his chest as the beast roared in protest.

"You have no right, little human! Give us back our savior now, or you shall perish!" The tree beast's eyes gleamed bright yellow and a sick smile graced his maw.

"I've tackled worse than you. You will not take Gwenevere from me!" Garrett proclaimed.

"ENOUGH!" The meek words of the dying nymph caused both sides to recede from the mounting conflict. Garrett gawked down at the injured creature he held as delicately as a newborn babe. She was positively seething with authority. The sight of her luminous red eyes nearly caused the thief to drop her, and her voice was high-pitched and distorted. "I command you to escort Garrett to the spring. Now!"

And with that last bit of exuberance spent, Gwenevere collapsed into her thief's arms; unconscious.

The beast shrank down into his human guise with an aggravated grunt.

"It seems that she trusts you, and thus, so too shall I..."

*******************************

Garrett carefully climbed over the slippery rocks that lined the shoreline of the lakebed, and gently released the wilting nymph into the pleasant waters. Her body floated lazily upon the starlit surface, her eyes now firmly sealed shut. The thief closed his eyes, and suddenly found himself praying to a god that he had never believed in.

Literally begging to this unseen diety that she would be alright.


	30. Chapter 30

THE PAGAN WOOD

SIXTEEN YEARS AGO:

_ The Pagan Wood was the last place that Garrett wanted to be. But the matters at hand had left him no other choice; and Viktoria knew that._

_"So, Garrett, it's been a while since we last spoke." She stated as they walked along a grassy knoll overlooking a verdant meadow, rich with life._

_"I'm not one for small talk, Viktoria. Aren't we supposed to be getting rid of Karras? Maybe we could start by finding out what he's actually planning?" The thief narrowed his eyes, glaring at her._

_"Oh? But surely even a Master Thief must desire a night off once and again. Besides, what harm ever came from a little light conversation?" She purred._

_"Plenty. Socializing isn't part of my line of work."_

_"Ahh, but you're NOT working now; are you?" The wood nymph continued to toy her sultry tone through his mind. Garrett stopped walking and turned to face her. In truth, he had no idea why this creature was even attempting to befriend him. Certainly it was true that they now shared a common goal. Thwarting a dangerous foe who would spell both of their fates if left unchecked to go about his madness. But did Viktoria really think that he would be her companion? Did she truly believe him to be so dense? Garrett continued to glower at her, his right eye whirred and buzzed as if fueled by his own fury. _

_ This was the bitch who had betrayed him, tricked him. Torn out his eye and left him for dead. What did she expect him to be like around her?!_

_ Before he could reply, she spoke again._

_"I know what's going through your thoughts. Your expression speaks volumes, Garrett." She chided. Garrett gave her a deep frown._

_"All the more reason to avoid socializing."_

_"So I see..." Viktoria chuckled, twirling a strand of her long black hair around one of her nails. Her grin widened when she noticed that Garrett was still staring at her; most likely trying to seem imposing. Or perhaps, his weak manfool mind was at last weakening to her mysterious wild charms. Whatever the case, it was amusing to behold. The feisty nymph decided to up the ante. "You must be a very successful breeder..." A curious silence passed between the two, until Garrett finally realized what she had just implied. His face involuntarily flushed a deep shade of red, before he was able to regain his composure._

_"We 'manfools', call it making love. Not that creatures of Pagan whimsy would give a damn about our human customs." Viktoria gave him a suggestive wink, causing the thief to recoil again._

_"You may just be surprised Garrett." Knowing that she now held him within her clutches, she continued to press his emotions further. "So, are you?"_

_"Am I what?"_

_"Good at this, 'love making'." Garrett felt his face flush even brighter than before. He turned and glared at his tormentor. He allowed his tone to mellow before actually speaking to her._

_"And you're asking this, why?" Viktoria took another step towards her quarry. Her green lips parted, revealing a mischievous and playful smile. _

_ She, was going to enjoy this._

_"Because..."_

_"Because why?"_

_"Well...If you're even half as talented at that as you are at theft; then I find myself quite intrigued." The thief shook his head. _

_ Enough was enough._

_"Viktoria. Let's get one thing straight. This whole, 'buddy-buddy' thing? It's getting annoying. I said that I'd assist you, not become your new best friend." He snapped. The wood nymph's eyes began to glisten._

_"My! That's good to know. Because I have no desire, in becoming merely your friend..." Garrett tensed as he suddenly felt something creeping up his body. Scrambling to look downwards, he noticed a thin vine of leafy ivy gently caressing his torso and upper back. Instantly, he brushed the flora away._

_"That's enough!" He growled. Viktoria growled right back. Her insides were burning, and her eyes began to glow a dark shade of crimson. _

_ How dare he?!_

_ At the last moment, however; she relaxed again. Instead, she emitted her jovial, yet seductive laughter._

_"Ooh...so touchy..."_

_"Seems to me that you're the touchy one..." Garrett grumbled._

_"Maybe a little...But truly; can you blame me?"_

_"I already blame everything else on you. Doesn't seem like much of a stretch."_

_"Oh come now Garrett! You honestly can't still be upset about your eye, now can you? After all, at least YOU made it out alive! We, lost our god!" Garrett's demeanor became very uneasy. He abruptly turned away from her. The evening had gone rotten enough, without Viktoria having to bring THAT up! Sensing his discomfort, Viktoria's tone began to shift. She turned to survey the expanse of trees behind her. There was still hope left in her world. And Garrett was her chance to secure such hope. _

_ To protect that which she held most dear._

_"I am sorry..., master thief. I shan't' discuss it further." The silence returned, but with a more uneasy atmosphere than before. Garrett stared at her. If there was ever a sentiment that he would never have expected to leave her lips; it was an apology._

_"Good." He retorted with a cold snarl. The two allies resumed their midnight walk, entering a clearing in the heart of the forest. Viktoria halted, and looked up towards the heavens. The sky was crowded with billions of stars, highlighted by the silver swirls of distant galaxies. Garrett felt inclined to follow her eyes, but only craned his neck slightly before stopping himself._

_"Garrett.." Viktoria resumed her inquiries. No answer._

_"Being stubborn again I see." She chimed. "Very well...Can I ask you a question then?"_

_"That would be pointless."_

_"Are you so certain of everything, master thief?"_

_"Fine Viktoria. Get it over with."_

_"Why do you refrain from opening yourself, Garrett? Why do remain so completely devoid from any interaction with your people? Is the fact that you are a thief the only_  
><em>thing that stops you from doing otherwise?"<em>

_"I'm a criminal, Viktoria; or has that information just not sunken in yet? I steal from my 'people' for a living. You'd think that'd be reason enough as to why I can't be a social butterfly." Garret turned angrily to her. "And what is with this sudden interest in …me? I frankly don't care about anyone else, so why should anyone; including you, take any interest in me?! I never asked anything about you. The only reason why I'm even talking to you now, is because my neck just so happens to be on the same line as yours."_

_"You're only angry because you're alone. You manfools tend to travel in packs, after all. You crave social bonds. It's in your nature." Viktoria responded calmly._

_"I'm not a pack animal Viktoria. And I don't crave anything; certainly nothing that you can offer." The thief huffed._

_"Oh? Are you so certain of that?" The nymph grinned._

_"Yes." Viktoria smirked, and slowly allowed her bark-like flesh to regain its human guise. Green and brown wavy pigment was replaced by smooth skin of milky ivory. Garrett gasped and averted his eyes as Viktoria took up one of her large supple bosoms and seductively rubbed and licked at the soft mound._

_"Come now Garrett! No need to be so shy. You have seen me like this, once before..." She teased, looked up from her breast into his face. The thief shuddered as blood pulsed its way through his body, quickly hardening his groin._

_"That...was a long time ago. Before I knew what you really were. Before you and Constantine-" The nymph, grinned with conquest. She began to massage her abdomen, and her curvaceous sides. Her soft hands and fingers traced every outline of her now fully human form. With every stroke, Garrett found it harder and harder to keep his eyes on the forest floor. He hadn't been with a woman in a very long time. Two years, to be precise. And it had been with her._

_"But I thought we were partners now..." Garrett looked up and was taken aback by her figure. Even in his most scandalous of dreams, he had never seen such a lovely body before. She was pale all over, save her pink areolas and hardened nipples; and that small yet wild tuft of dark hair that clung to her vagina. No longer in control of his mind, or his urges, the thief managed a single sentence._

_"You are very, very beautiful Viktoria..." He whispered, feeling as his leather pants suddenly grew uncomfortably tight. The nymph's grin began to soften._

_"So, do I have your attention now?"_

_"You...could say that."_

_"You'll be a good boy now, and treat me nicer?"_

_"Yes..."_

_"Wonderful." Her lustful eyes sparkled. "Come hither; my good thief..."_


	31. Chapter 31

The hours dragged by painfully slow, and soon, the first rays of dawn found the shadowed confines of the forest spring. Gwenevere remained submerged, her body slightly less wooden. Garrett ran his fingers across her cheek, feeling the softness of her flesh return. The nymph was once again receding into her innermost soul, leaving only the broken remains of his child-like apprentice behind.

"She's resting." The strange old man commented, sensing the thief's uncertainty to her change in form. "As she should; a few precious moments more, and she would have surely perished." Garrett glanced over his shoulder at the pagan, making sure to keep his head level with that of the pool. The last thing he wanted to do right now, was engage this creature in conversation.

"You...are a strange human..." The elder's vivid eyes glistened like gemstones, grabbing Garrett's attention. "Tell me, outsider. Why does she trust you? What have you done for her?" The thief scoffed, staring down at the slumbering girl below, her red locks drifting upon the crystalline blue waters.

"Apparently more than I realize..." He replied, his mind lost.

"You...you know what she is...yet you harbor neither fear nor hatred of her?"

"I don't tend to hate or fear those who haven't wronged me."

"Interesting..." The elder managed a small smile, and approached the edge of the stream, where Garrett was protectively watching over Gwenevere. "Something tells me that the Last Mother had good reason to trust you." Garrett blinked. Turning his gaze up to meet the rising sun, a mystical golden light illuminated his false optic in a dazzling luster.

"Why do you pagans keep calling her that? What is this 'Last Mother'?"

"Gwenevere, is the last of her kind. She's the only hope for our faltering ways and beliefs. Look around you, outsider! How many of my people do you see?"

"So far, you and Gwenevere are the only pagans I've seen...in a very long time." He scoffed sourly. "Not that that's exactly a BAD thing..."

"You're callous; grounded. Not free and fluid."

"What, you a mind reader now?" Garrett shook his head.

"It just doesn't make any sense to me! Why would she devote such loyalty to you?!" The pagan temple keeper raised his voice just enough to put the thief on edge. Garrett turned around and stood, ready for whatever nasty tricks the cultist had planned for him. But to his surprise, the elder dropped his staff, and backed away from him. "Forgive me. It's just...frustrating. She was here, about two moons ago...she took the Woodsie Emerald." Garrett pondered these words, searching his thoughts.

"Is that what the green orb was called?" He asked. The elder nodded.

"It was hers to hold onto, so of course I did not object. But I never understood why she would want to remove it from the forest." He met the inquisitive eyes of the thief. "Until now."

"I really haven't got a clue where you're going with this."

"Gwenevere, wanted to keep the artifact in the one place she held dear. Which, apparently isn't the forest anymore." The old man sighed, and began stroking his beard in deep meditation.

"So, where is this place?" His question seemed to surprise the temple keeper.

"Isn't it obvious?!"

"No."

"It is with you." Garrett's face paled. He looked down at the damaged nymph in the pool. How could he have been so dense?! Was he really so set in his ways that he had somehow overlooked the precious sacrifice she had been making for him? The thief shuffled his feet through the overgrown blades of grass. Yes. Yes he was. All she had done for him, the endless loyalty she had sworn. The blood she had shed and the suffering she had endured. He had overlooked it all.

"This orb. What's so important about it? Will it save her now?!" Garrett demanded. The temple keeper nodded.

"If it is brought to her aid, and a blood sacrifice performed in the honor of the old gods, then the Last Mother shall be restored to her former glory. And then some." The pagan looked up and opened his eyes.

Garrett, was gone.

An icy breeze raked across Garrett's face as he darted out of the Pagan Wood. A small white fox curiously popped her head out from her winter burrow and looked at the strange human who was within her realm. A bluebird sang high-pitched notes in the pine tree overhead, and in the distance, the thief could hear the wild untamed music of wolves howling. The entire world seemed to be urging him forward, demanding for him to succeed in his objective.

The fate of the Last Mother; now lay in his hands.

********************************

The inside of the clock tower was particularly musty that morning. Garrett began searching every possible hiding spot for Gwenevere's orb. He knew that it was there. Even if he had told her it was junk, she had known better all along. She would have never just left it behind. The thief smirked. He knew his rebellious pupil, all too well.

"She must have hid it..." Pilfur emerged from the corner of the compact room, stretching his back. Garrett hardly noticed as the kitten sniffed at his boots, heavy with scents of the outdoors. The thief halted his search and pressed a befuddled finger to his lips. He was the master at this. There wasn't a soul on this earth that could hide their treasures from him. Not even a wily forest nymph.

"Hmm. If I were going to hide an ancient relic, where would it be?" He smiled, suddenly remembering where Gwenevere had resided for the past two months. She respected him, and as such, the girl had never strayed far from her designated spot at the bend in the stairway. That narrowed his search considerably.

Garrett slowly paced around the area, listening carefully for any loose places in the floor. At last, his left foot came down with a low creak. His face was bathed in conquest as he knelt down and jimmied out the stray plank. He found the orb, resting on top of a rather large sack, bulged with something unseen. The thief fought the urge to satisfy his natural curiosity, and reluctantly slammed the board back in place. Whatever was inside, it would have to wait until Gwenevere's life was out of peril. Garrett took up the green spere in his cold hands. It had a very faint luster of yellow to it. He found himself smiling in spite of himself. Even if it had no monetary value; it was beautiful, as well as very important.

Just like his Gwenevere.

Garrett tucked the orb lovingly between the folds of his cloak. She was safe within the grips of her wood, and there was something that he desperately needed to do before returning to her side. Something that he had to get out of his head.

**************************************

The Crippled Burrick was crowded on that cold December morn, though it had seldom seen such sad faces. Men and women, both wearing clothes riddled with holes and holding more patches than the original fabric lined the bar and sat in close quarters among the few tables. The bartender was as stressed and anxious as he ever was, and Sasha, the barwench, was doing her best to keep up with both his unsteady temper and the hordes of customers they had drawn in that day.  
>"Sasha! This fine gent says he wants another beer!" Yelled the bartender. Sasha jumped at the boom of his loud voice. She faced her boss, and her blue eyes sparkled.<br>"Yes Mr. Davis!" She replied with a nod, which caused her light blonde curls to bounce a little. Mr. Davis did not return the gesture with a kind smile, as he usually would have. Winter always made him a tense man. The bitter air was hard on his arthritis, and there was always so much to do, for so little pay. As with most of the jobs to be found in the city, more than half of all his profits went directly to the baron. Perhaps this was why so many of his customers were downtrodden this time of year. Spring and Summer were full of life and there was that beckoning warmth of the sun as it filtered down through the noxious smoke clouds of the factories. Fall had its benefits too, although it rained more then, and the sudden gusts of icy wind let everyone know that winter was fast approaching. But there was something about winter that made every poor man in Stonemart unmistakably melancholy. Maybe it was the dark grey skies overhead, already so filled with smog that one couldn't help but feel depressed. During winter, some days it was so dark that it was nearly impossible to distinguish the sky from the pollution.

As Sasha retrieved another bottle of beer from behind the counter of the bar, a firm tug found the apron of her dress. The young woman turned around and locked eyes with the tavern's most beloved customer.

"Scuse' me sweetheart, but would ya mind getting me another pint?" Basso asked with an oddly enduring smile.  
>"Right away!" She returned the merry gesture. The boxman chuckled and dug his hands into his coat pockets for warmth. He pulled his dark green scarf tighter around his throat as Sasha returned and generously re-filled his flagon.<p>

"So, any plans for the holiday?" She asked curiously. Basso took a sip of his drink and breathed heavy relief as the alcohol hit his tongue.  
>"Doing what I do every year."<br>"And what would that be?" The barmaid giggled.  
>"Staying right here and getting hammered! With everyone else at home celebrating, I figure you could use a customer." He grinned. Sasha smiled at his remark.<p>

"You and your kin are always welcome here." Her hair bounced again as she started away. Basso shook his head with a chuckle.

"Nice to know that you haven't been banned from the tavern yet Basso." Garrett emerged from around the corner, and took a seat across from his mate.

"Eh..." Basso waved him off. "They'll get around to it."

"I don't doubt it. How much money do you owe by now?" Garrett smirked.

"You gonna henpeck me all morning then?"

"I've got better things to do, you know that."

"Of course I do." Basso took another chug of his ale. "So, what brings you back to my little castle so soon, hmm?"

"Just making sure you're not dead yet."

"I see." The boxman chuckled. He went for his drink again, but stopped short when he noticed the distant scowl on the thief's face. Basso knew this look; all too well. It wasn't hard to recognize; because it didn't appear very often. He leaned forward, and tapped the table.

"Garrett. What happened?" Basso's eyes widened. "It's not..." He took a long chug of his drink, emptying the entire flagon in one go. "Oh taff it all! Gwenevere left ya, didn't she?!"

"Not as such, no."

"Agh...you had me going there!" He sighed.

"But..."

"Uh-oh...I don't like that but..." The boxman crooked an eyebrow, his voice slightly slurred.

"Basso..." Garrett lowered his voice. "I found out something about her. It's...I really need to get this off my chest."

"Go on." His mate encouraged.

"Do you...recall the time I was with that...forest nymph...all those years ago?"

"Yeah. Not that I ever believed you, but yeah whatever."

"Gwenevere...well she's...half forest nymph..."

"So? Why are ya tellin' me this?!" Garrett took a deep breath and exhaled a stream of hot air.

"I...I think I might be her father Basso..." The boxman shook his head, mid drink.

"Naw Garrett. Gwennie looks nothing like you! Besides, you weren't the only one to bed Vik-whatshername..." The thief's eyes flew open.

"Basso!? What are you talking about!?" He asked, slightly worried.

"Eh, I had a go at her myself."

"What!?"

"Well yeah! Sure. I've been with lots, and lots...and lots...of forest nymphs...That's why it never worked out between me and the misses..." He grinned stupidly. Garrett pressed his palm up over his forehead and sighed.

"Basso. You're drunk again, aren't you?"

"Well of course I am! Why else would I be tellin' you all this?" He slurred, raising his glass for the bar wench. "But then again, I might be mistaken. Any gal can look like a forest nymph; once yer drunk enough..."

"I know that this is supposed to help Basso, but it's not."

"Well excuse me! I did what aye could,n if it ain't goodenough fer you than-" The boxman keeled over, falling out of the wooden booth in a drunken heap.

"Basso! How many drinks have you had man?! It's not even noon yet!" Garrett's ears pricked at the familiar voice. He looked up to see a middle-aged woman with grey highlights in her chocolate-brown wavy hair. It was Basso's younger sister, Sophie. Garrett felt his lips uncontrollably contort into a small grin. The years had been kind to her.

"It's been a while, Sophie." He addressed her. The woman nearly shrieked at the sight of Garrett, for she hadn't seen him huddled in the dark corner of the booth.

"G-Garrett?! W-what are you doing back here?! Why haven't you left the city yet?!" The thief was perplexed by this rather odd reply. He spun around to face her, and stood.

"What do you mean? Why would I leave?" Sophie began to back away from him.

"You...you don't know, do you? I mean, I know you were there, but..."

"Sophie, what are you talking about?"

"Garrett. The Thief-Taker General has been murdered. You're their number one suspect." She whispered, deep concern written in her blue eyes. Garrett's body tensed. He was lost in thought with how crazy this day had truly been. Within twenty-four hours, he had broken his mate out of the baron's keep, been captured and tortured, been rescued by the last forest nymph on earth whose life now hung in the balance, and, just now, he had discovered that he had been accused of the murder of one of the most prominent figures in the city. He sighed as he eyed Basso's sister again. If he told her, would she even belive him?

"What happened Garrett? I know you didn't do it; it's not in your nature to kill people, especially in such a gory manner. They say that he was practically ripped apart." Sophie continued. The thief shuddered as his old flame took a seat beside him. She stared intently into his eyes.

"I don't really think-"

"-Please. For old time's sake." She grinned mischievously. "You broke my heart; you at least owe me that much!" Garrett huffed, and began to trace the lettering on a faded coaster.

"It's a long story..." The charming barmaid smiled, her eyes full of wisdom and life.

"I've got nothing better to do."


	32. Chapter 32

Sophie finished the last of her drink, and glanced downward in the direction of her passed out sibling. She managed a slight modicum of acknowledgement as the thief finished his story.

"You seem like you really care about her. That's good Garrett."

"I wouldn't say that."

"What do you mean?" Her blue eyes locked with those of her brothers most trusted companion. "What is your obsession with being alone anyway? I've never understood that about you. I know that you understand the value of a favor, so why are you so resistant to the idea of such an intimate one?"

"Intimacy has nothing to do with it." The thief snorted. "You want to know what I'm obsessed with, Sophie?"

"Let me guess...cold hard coin." She smirked. Garrett faced her. At that moment, the barmaid saw more diligence and truth in his face than she had ever witnessed in a lifetime.

"I told myself...just this once. And why the hell not?! After all, it isn't everyday that a gorgeous, firm-bodied young woman just throws herself at me." Garrett chuckled. His disposition lasted only momentarily however, as the direness of his situation once again reignited an unknown fire within his very soul. He traced the thick rim of the ale Sophie had purchased him for comfort. The thief rarely drank. He saw alcohol as nothing more than a neglect to his concentration and stamina. But at that moment, Garrett didn't want to concentrate. He just wanted to get these thoughts out of his head. Chugging down a generous helping of liquid courage, he faced Sophie again. His eyes were so pain-striken, that then boxman's sister nearly reached out for his hand. But she knew better. "But ever since that night, I find myself slowly loosing touch with reality. It's like she took everything out of me; good and bad. Everywhere I look, I see her emerald eyes leering into me. I feel her silken touch against my flesh. I hear her laughter, a cacophony of distant and careless spirits. I don't know who I am anymore Sophie! Even now, Gwenevere lies forlorn within the confines of that accursed wood, and I can't for the life of me stand the thought of her being alone. Yet, I am reluctant to return to her. She's tearing the very foundations of my being asunder!" He finished the drink, and slammed the empty pint down hard onto the table.

"Garrett. What becomes of the thief, when there is nothing left to steal?"

"Don't get philosophical with me Sophie, I'm really in no mood..." Garrett grumbled, wiping his lips with the back of his leather glove.

"It's not philosophy; it's a genuine question. Or do you intend to be known by one term for the rest of your days?"

"I'm a thief, because that's all I know. It's all I'm good at. That is how it has always been."

"I think you hold more talent than you realize, Master Thief. After all, you made a forest nymph fall in love with you. Twice. From what I've read in books, they do not give their hearts away freely. Especially to mortal men."

"I'm not in any mood for fairy tales, either." The thief grumbled.

"Ahh, but fairy tales are fictitious. Your Gwenevere, is very, very real."

"I should have known better than to try and chat with you Sophie. You women always have to romanticize every bloody little thing. For your information, Gwenevere doesn't belong to me. She's just my apprentice." Garrett stood from the table, having had more than enough of this conversation. True or not, he didn't like to talk about his innermost feelings. "And I do not plan on keeping her longer than I have to." Sophie smirked. She still had one last ace up her sleeve.

"Yes, I can see that you've taught her well."

"How would you know that?! You haven't even met her."

"I don't have to Garrett. I can see that she's already managed to steal something from you. Something that very few have even seen, let alone touched." Garrett's hazel pupil dilated, quaking with the words that had just found his ears.

Knowledge to which his subconscious was already all too aware of.

His return to the forest was halted midway, by the ancient temple keeper. Garrett halted his progression with a scoff.

"Human. Come with me."

"You pagans don't strike me as the welcoming type. What's with the escort?"

"You have returned with the Woodsie Emerald. If the Last Mother is to make a full recovery, the ritual must be performed immediately."

"How is she?" Garrett asked, dropping the icy facade he held within the city.

"Still resting. So long as her body does not leave the sacred spring, she shall remain alive. But it is only by the power of the Woodsie Emerald, that she shall be fully healed."

"And just what does this 'ritual' entail?" The thief crossed his arms. While he would have done anything for Gwenevere, every pagan ritual he had stumbled across over the years always filled him with dread. As well as stirring up that very painful memory, of when such a ritual was performed on him.

"Just a few drops of your blood, I swear it." The elder replied solemnly. "But...for the magic to work properly, you must do so of your own free will."

"Nice to know that you aren't planning on mercilessly bleeding me just for the fun of it." Garrett commented dryly. The elder, was far from pleased.

"If it were up to me, you wouldn't be involved at all." His tone was cruel and angry. "The Last Mother's devotion to you is, already far too unnatural..." The thief turned his head up to the cyan sky, watching as a few wispy clouds drifted by.

"I know."

"You have to understand something about the one you call Gwenevere."

"Oh?"

"You once asked why we call her the Last Mother. There is more reason to this than I initially revealed."

"Figures. Pagan folk are about as complex and secretive as they come."

"And she, is no exception. Or at least, she wouldn't have been. Except..." Garrett averted his gaze to the ancient when he stopped abruptly.

"Except what?" Suddenly, the forest grew very quiet. The temple keeper slowly raised his eyes to meet those of the curious thief.

"Eighteen winters ago, our kind saw the first of its downfall. What was supposed to be the beginning of a new era for the pagans, was quickly denounced when our god was destroyed by a foul interloper." The elder began to growl, his human form nearly folding in on itself to reveal the monstrous beast within. Garrett took a few intimidated steps back, wondering if this creature indeed knew who it had been to slay the Trickster. But somehow, the elder managed to calm himself. "If that wasn't bad enough, two years later, his mistress sacrificed herself to those damned Mechanists. After she was gone...we were practically powerless. They knew this, and they came for us. They burned our forests and slaughtered our young. Blood tainted every stone, every tree still remembers the horrible screams of that night. But in spite of their clear victory, it wasn't enough! They had to add insult to injury, they had to take the very last hope our people had." He stopped abruptly as a single greasy tear left his weathered eyes. Garrett held his breath as the ancient faced him.

"And so, they took her away from us. The Last Mother now lives under the impression that she is far less grand than she truly is. If not for the vivid memories of her beloved mother, she would belive herself fully human."

"Viktoria." Garrett nodded. "She was Gwenevere's mother." The temple keeper then began to laugh uncontrollably.

"Something about this amusing to you?" The thief asked, perturbed. The elder's eyes were now firmly squeezed shut, his wrinkles and crows feet mirroring his unwavering smile. He chortled and wheezed, as if filled with an indescribable joy. However, Garrett's inital judgements were proven very wrong; when he reopened them.

For those same eyes; were now burning with insanity.

"The amusing thing, is that you are so content with calling her that. But in truth, Gwenevere is not her real name. That, is what the one who abducted her calls her. Her true name has long been lost within the confines of her late mother's branches. You see, human? The Last Mother, must remain in the forest with us. She is more than just a nymph. She is the spawn of our god!" Garrett's eyes flew open.

"Y-you can't be serious?!" He struggled to fight the reality of it all. Normally, he would have found unbridled zest in the knowledge that she was not his daughter. But instead, the tortured man held his head and sank to his knees. The woman he loved. His Gwenevere. She was child of magic and power.

She, was the Trickster's Second. Pagan Goddess.


	33. Chapter 33

The temple keeper stood beside Garrett within the confines of the ancient Pagan temple. A grey stone altar lay before them, the Woodsie Emerald situated atop.

"Lady of the Woodsies,  
>Mistress of the Trees<br>Chosen Child,  
>Our Last Mother,<br>Our Last Hope..."

The last words of the ancient Pagan rite uttered, the elder turned his sights on the thief, watching as he produced a six-inch dagger.

"Human. Before we begin; I need to know. Are you truly devoted to the Last Mother. The one you call, Gwenevere?"

"I'm participating in a pagan ritual willingly in order to save her life. I'd say that's a pretty good sign." He snapped.

"Then I suppose that it can't be helped." He shook his head with a hopeless sigh.

"You don't seem to pleased, old man."

"I'm not! Why can't you see it manfool?!" The eyes of the temple keeper began to glow a sickening green as the beast within made itself known, however fleeting.

"See what?" Garrett retorted bravely.

"The Last Mother. She's been in the darkness so long; tricked into believing that she's indeed, part human. That she belongs within your wretched human world of smoke and iron. If these delusions are allowed to fester unchecked for much longer..."

"What? What's the big secret?" The thief huffed, toying impatiently with the tip of his blade.

"Do not be afraid of the knowledge you have gained, human. She is not a diety; at least not yet. Her powers are great, yet they are just a tiny glance at what she will eventually become." The elder ground his teeth in the direction of the outsider. "But...I can sense your feelings for her. And what I initially interpreted as loyalty to you out of sheer folly; I now see for what it truly is."

"Just get to the point."

"The Last Mother, is fighting against herself. She yearns to be pure human. No doubt she mistakes her instincts for voices in her head. Or demons." Garrett's eyes widened at these familiar words. Gwenevere had spoken of being possessed by demons. Were these demons...these voices that told her to maim and slaughter...had they been just a part of her all along?! And if so, how could she not know?

"Why would she do that? Why abandon what she is? What could she possibly have to gain?"

"It's simple. You." Garrett recoiled at the elder's accusation.

"What?!" He gaped. Although he acted surprised, a part of him already knew that this was the case. Gwenevere loved him. She had even told him so. Although he had yet to utter such powerful words to her. The thief cringed at the thought. He did love her, but...

"If she choses a life with you, yes, she shall lose her power and gain the soul of a mortal. But if this happens, the days of the pagan ways will end. And so too, shall the forest." Garrett gawked at him. It all made sense now! Those vivid nightmares of pagan voices and death. Viktoria telling, no, threatening him not to taint Gwenevere. These had been the last resorts of a dying religion. A fading legacy.

"Gwenevere has already made that choice. She wants to help the city. She has devoted herself to my teachings, and become my apprentice." He informed. To his surprise, the temple keeper appeared neither enraged nor disappointed. Instead, he stood before the thief; his last forlorn expression fading into history.

"I had hoped...that it would not be this way. But I should have known better! Our days have been long over; ever since the genocide those damned Mechanists committed. I thought, with the power of the Last Mother; maybe we could regroup. Her power could have turned your metal city to dust, manfool!" The elder roared, his level sagelike voice now demented and gutteral. His tone shifted back to normal a moment later, a deep sadness coating his tongue. "But now..."

"Now, she's free to carve her own destiny." Garrett finished the elder's speech. "And I'm not about to let such noble efforts be in vain." Before the temple keeper could object, the thief sliced a deep gash into his left hand. A fountain of warm burgundy splattered across the altar and the Woodsie Emerald. Using the thin folds of his black cloak, the thief cleaned his dagger and sheathed it. He stared down at his wound for a moment. _Fresh _blood receded down his arm like a gristly river, and the pagan relic began to glow.

A cold wind whipped across the forest, taking the last of Garrett's nagging doubts about Gwenevere with it. This sacrifice, had been more than just a means to save her life.

It had been an unspoken covenant of his devotion and love for her.

Gwenevere slowly came to, still floating in her bath of lilies and tiny fish. Several koi swam past her, nipping at the strands of her red satin hair floating lazily in their domain. She rubbed her dirty face with the cold water, feeling as her strength began to return. It had been weeks since the young woman had been given a chance to bathe like this, and it felt so good. Hidden in the shadows of the enchanted trees, the moonlight illuminated the recovering nymph and shone off the tips of the ancient branches. Gwenevere breathed slowly and closed her eyes, thinking of Garrett. The moonlight glistened off the surface of the lake, distorted by the ripples as she swam in the cool night. She was so deep in thought, that she didn't hear the soft footsteps coming from behind her.

"It would appear, that the ritual has been a success." The temple keeper addressed her. Gwenevere spun around in the lake, water spray catching the moonbeams like dazzling crystals. "His blood has awakened you."

"Wha-what? What are you talking about?" She asked, a bit nervously. The elder stood in silence for a moment, then slowly closed his eyes.

"The human you have taken so much interest in. He offered up his own blood, to save your life." Gwenevere was mortified.

"Garrett!? Is he-" She froze. Although the unmistakenable power of a diety flowed through her veins, not a cell in her body had the strength to ask that question.

"Do not fear, m'lady. This particular ritual did not call for very much sacrificial blood." Gwenevere felt her posture untense at his reply.

"Where is he then?" She shook the remaining water from her hair. The green in her irises spun and twisted with the golden edges.

"He waits for you, within the heart of the forest. He said that he needed to speak with you; alone." Gwenevere smiled a gratious thanks to the temple keeper, before darting off to see just what it was her savior wanted. On her way, she couldn't help but chuckle.

"Taff it all Garrett! You've got to stop saving me all the time, else I'll never be able to repay you!"

She found him just where the temple guardian had promised; right in the heart of the wood. The thief's gaze was directed up towards the vast sea of stars overhead. He was positively exhausted, yet for some reason, Garrett found that he couldn't turn his eyes away from the heavenly beacons. They seemed to be pulling at him, searching the unseen shadows of his being.

Testing his soul.

"Garrett." Gwenevere approached. Garrett finally looked away from the celestial bodies at the beckoning of her sweet voice. Fireflies illuminated the tall grass beneath her toes in a twinkling hue of neon. The nymph's senses grew uncertain when she noticed the bandaging on her thief's hand. No doubt that the injury had been caused during the ritual; self-inflicted. Her body cringed. "Are you...alright?" She blurted, completely forgetting her entire reason for being there. All she could think of now, were the wounds he had endured to save her life. A small grin found the thief's parched lips.

"You're the one who nearly died. I should be asking you." He replied, trying not to let his over exuberance of seeing Gwenevere on her feet get the better of him. A lone wolf howled in the distance as the nymph strode to his side. She looked up at her savior. He towered over her by almost a full foot, yet his presence had never been frightening for her. Gwenevere recalled the night she had first met Garrett, how he had snuck up on her in that dark alley. Even then, she had never felt afraid of him. She couldn't say why, but he had always projected an air of safety and guardianship to her. She blushed, thinking about how silly she would sound if he knew her precise thoughts. For through their countless ordeals and trials together, Garrett had become more than just her teacher, her lover. He had become her hero.

Picking up on her deep thoughts, the thief touched her shoulder. Gwenevere gasped silently when she felt his hand tremble as it graced her soft flesh. She looked up into his eyes. They were tired, no doubt about that. But also flooded with relief and contentment.

"And I'm glad you are." He smiled.

"Likewise." She closed her eyes in joy. Garrett turned away from her, a firm frown replacing his tender expression.

"I wouldn't say that."

"What? Why?!" Casting his eyes back up to the swirling galaxies of sparkling alabaster, the thief maintained his disdain.

"I can't go back to the city for a long time. If ever."

"What happened?" Garrett stared at her. Of course she would ask that! She was a forest creature with the blissful innocence of a sheltered child. She had no idea how the world around her worked; or what the consequences of her actions would spell. A large part of Garrett was beyond proud by said actions, despite the trouble they had caused him. Since the night he had first met the Thief-taker General, the bastard had been a thorn in his side. The thought of what he would have undoubtably put the thief through that eve, should Gwenevere not disobeyed and followed him...He subcontiously rubbed his hand. The bone-shattering agony, would have been just the beginning of that sadists bout of torture. But the forest nymph had shown up to turn the tables. And she had.

"Gwenevere. The man you...killed that night."

"Uh-huh! What about him?" Gwenevere smiled with genuine glee. This disturbed Garrett, in light of what he had recently learned about her. Did she...actually enjoy what she had done? If she was anything like her father... No! Garrett shook his head violently. No, Gwenevere doesn't even know what she is; where she descends from! She would never kill for pleasure! It surprised him how much he was defending her lately. Guarding her as if she were a precious stone. His precious stone. Garrett knew every treasure in his collection well. Including Gwenevere. For she was his most cherished prize.

_No. She's not the Trickster. She's barely Viktoria..._

His mind once again put at ease, he released a pent-up sigh. While Gwenevere was indeed as dangerous as her parents, there was one trait which she did not share with either of them.

Gwenevere, wanted to help everyone. Not just the pagans. Not just herself. Not just him.

Everyone.

She was a selfless creation, cursed with godlike power.

"Garrett? You ok?" Her voice teased at his eardrums as a soft breeze caught the thief's cloak. Garrett locked eyes with her and smiled again.

"Just thinking about something."

"Oh?" Gwenevere cocked her head.

"None of that matters. At least, not at the moment." He stepped closer to her. Removing his billowing cloak, he gingerly draped it over her chilled body. Gwenevere blinked with a giggle as he pulled the attached hood up over her still moist hair.

"Not sure if forest nymphs can catch cold, but I'm not willing to take any chances." He spoke solemnly, as his large hands caressed downwards over the length of her petite form.

The thief held the shuddering nymph against his body, feeling as she locked her legs around his. The night felt soothing, despite the frigid chill in the air. The two were warm within the confines of a small cave, protected from the ice and snow by mossy limestone walls and dripping stalactites. There was a relaxing heat wafting through the confine, coming from an unseen hot spring just below the surface.

Garrett's mind was still riddled with turbulence. His place, nay, his identity, was in the city. Yet returning would be no easy task. In time, perhaps after the heat died down, he could return to his life of hording treasures and stalking the night. He glanced down at Gwenevere, listening to the gentleness of her breathing pattern.

In time. For now, he was exactly where he wanted to be.

"Garrett?" She suddenly spoke, nearly startling him.

"I thought you were asleep. What is it, my Gwenevere?"

"You...you mentioned that man I killed earlier." The thief's chest tensed.

"Yes. What of him?" Gwenevere stared up into his bi-colored eyes, anxious. Her expression was troubled, and Garrett knew that her thoughts were causing her much turmoil. "Gwenevere?" He asked with concern when she did not respond.

"Garrett...am I..."

"Are you what, Gwenevere?" His hot breath found her ear as he coaxed, tracing his index finger down the base of her neck. Her body jittered with pleasure and lust. How she loved it when he did that!

But pleasure was soon replaced by an undenyable hollowness. A feeling of deep terror that would rival even the greatest of mortal fears.

"Am I a bad person? Am I an...abomitation; for what I did to him?" As the words left her burgundy lips, the little nymph began to tremble. Instantly, Garrett pulled her into him, letting her tears bathe his defined chest.

"Shh...Gwenevere..." He stroked her hair, taking the time to feel each wavy ruby strand as it fell from his fingers. "You shouldn't speak of yourself like that."

"B-but Garrett! I...I ripped him apart! I made him suffer so!"

"Belive me; he had it coming."

"I wish I could." She sniffed. "But deep down, I know that no one deserves to die like that. What I did was...monsterous. I told you once before, that I don't agree with everything the pagans do. The blood sacrifices, the senseless slaughter of outsiders. I never wanted a part in any of it!" She shrieked. Garrett felt as if an unseen cold finger reached out and tapped him in the chest at her words.

She didn't want her fate, yet, could such power be ignored? Even by choice, could Gwenevere ever truly deny herself? The thief managed an ironic smirk. Could anyone?

"I...I still remember what I was thinking, when I saw him drag you away. I told myself that after he left, I would just untie you and we would escape." She gulped down a foul mixture of angry tears and remorse. "But...he didn't leave. He hurt you. And when I heard you scream like that..." Garrett held her tighter, now rocking her slightly.

"I know. I know. It's alright Gwenevere. You did the right thing." He comforted. To his shock, she violently pulled free of his embrace. Her green eyes burned like torches.

"No Garrett. You can't just trivialize it like that! Killing is never the answer. If it wasn't for that damned demon inside my head...if it hadn't told me to end his life-"

"-then the Thief-Taker General would have killed you. He would have tortured me, and then I would have hung, come dawn." He interrupted her. Gwenevere's eyes now laid locked within his. As the wisdom of his statement sank in, Garrett continued. "I don't like killing either Gwenevere. I never have. My family-" He stopped short, hot breath finding his nostrils.

"Garrett?" Intrigued, Gwenevere touched his exposed knee. "What happened to them?" She felt the hairs of his calf stand on end at her inquiry. Garrett took a deep breath. He had told her so many things pertaining to his life. Things that no soul; living or dead, had ever heard uttered from his lips. Speaking freely, or administering truths were nonexistent for him; before this creature had entered his world.

"They were murdered by the Hammerites." Gwenevere felt her heart go numb. The Hammerites, or 'Hammerheads' as her people called them, were a religious group that sought to carry out the vision of the Master Builder; their god. In their prime, they had also been the driving force of progress within the city. They represented order, and zealously enforced the tenets of their faith. Part of this meant a ceaseless strife against criminals and other law-breakers. Including thieves.

"Why would they kill your parents?" She asked, positively horrified. Garrett choked back deep anguish and took a cleansing breath.

"I don't remember much about my childhood. I vaguely recall having an older brother, but the memory is hazy at best. I know that my father was involved in some sort of smuggling operation down by the docks. Apparently, the Hammers didn't approve of whatever it was that he was transporting."

"What happened?"

"One night, while we all slept, there was a loud banging at the door. It sounded like volatile thunder, mixed with pure hatred. I can still hear their bellowing voices knocking in my ears.

"It was them, wasn't it?" Gwenevere asked. The thief slowly nodded his head.

"I remember being shuffled into the basement by my mother's hands. I remember cowering, too frightened to even breath as the loud footsteps trampled overhead. There was a scream, a struggle..." His voice trembled. "And then...silence. Dead silence." Gwenevere crawled close to him, and wrapped her arms around his neck. She graced the cheek of her beloved thief. He remained stiff in her arms.

"Garrett...I had no idea." Was all that she could say. "So, is that why you despise killing?"

"In part." Garrett fell silent, until the last streaks of the winter storm were replaced by the cool greys of early morning.

"Gwenevere. What you did, was justified. While I don't belive that people are inherently good, I do belive that most deserve life. Most." He looked down at her. The nymph watched him speak, captivated by his every word.

"Garrett...have you ever killed anyone?"

"Yes."

"When was the last time?" Garrett stared at her, a look of firm intent blazing within his primal eye.

"Gwenevere. I need to level with you. Do you remember that guard from the House of Blossoms? The one who tried to-" He stopped himself when he noticed the discomfort fill her face. Gwenevere shook like an autumn leaf caught up in a vile tornado. How could she ever forget?

"Why are you bringing that up now?" She asked, upset by the memory. Garrett gave her a knowing, solemn nod. Her eyes flashed.

"B-but...you told me that you just knocked him out!" She stammered.

"I just didn't want to upset you. But like the general, that watchdog had it coming. He should never have touched you like-" The thief snarled, clenching his teeth. Gwenevere tapped him again. "-The point is; while some of us scrape by, there are others who deserve to be scraped away, Gwenevere."

"I think I understand."

"I'm not quick to admit it, but I have made a lot of mistakes in my time. We all have. But when you choose to better yourself, be it by your craft or your skill, eventually said mistakes actually end out proving beneficial."

"How so?"

"Well, you won't make them again, that's for damn sure!" He grinned mischievously.

"Garrett. I am honored to be your apprentice." Gwenevere proclaimed out of nowhere. Garrett smiled and kissed her on her forehead.

"You do me proud."


	34. Chapter 34

Lord Vladimir Simmons reclined backwards in his cushy velvet armchair. The gala had warranted more of a turnout than he had initially expected. The ballroom bathed in the warm golden light and elegant melodies was quite a sight to behold. Every influential member of the city had made an appearance, including Baron Northcrest. Simmons watched from afar as the baron engaged in a light-hearted conversation with the captain of the city watch and Lady Simmons. Although from where he was seated it was impossible to know for sure, Simmons had a pretty good idea what the subject matter was pertaining to. The gristly murder of the Thief-Taker General. While everyone had been quick to blame that thief for his slaying, Simmons knew that no mortal man was capable of such an attack. The state the corpse had been found in, the lack of human footprints in the copious pools of blood, and that mysterious green liquid that had trailed out of the room.

It was almost maddening how dense the world around him had grown. They were so quick to place a random discarded longbow as evidence, yet those massive, ominous clawmarks left on the general's body had been overlooked as 'slash marks'.

The lord shook his head. No doubt about it. That murder, had been Gwenevere's doing.

"Enjoying the party?" A breathy voice rang from behind him. Simmons looked up to see Heleana looming over him. She stood out like a fire on a vacant moor. While every other woman at the prestigious event wore an elegant billowing ball gown, the tanned blonde appeared quite content in her skin-tight leather ensemble. Simmons glanced up at the small blood-red Mechanist symbol decorating the collar of said get up.

"More or less." He stretched.

"So, did you hear? They say that Garrett, Master Thief murdered the Thief-Taker General."

"I heard." The lord quipped nonchalantly. Heleana's grin expanded.

"I take it you don't buy it."

"No."

"And why not? Not enough 'hard' evidence for you?" She leaned down and whispered against his exposed earlobe. Simmons tensed.

"It's not that I don't want to see 'public enemy number one' hung; but there was plenty of evidence that those fools overlooked." Finding her opening, Heleana took the plunge.

"Yes, such as those awful claw marks..." She leaned in closer. "Or those long, wavy red hairs that my own investigation turned up." Her words caused the lord to jolt upright. He slowly turned and stared at her.

"You...you know, don't you?"

"You've got a wild one on your hands their, Vlad. Perhaps the time has come to...call in an animal tamer, of sorts..." Heleana ran her long nails down the lords back, causing him to shudder.

"I'm afraid it won't be that easy." He faced her. In one graceless maneuver, Simmons grabbed her wrist, and pulled Heleana down into his lap. "Gwenevere, is more than just a headstrong girl. One might even say, that she's barely human..." Heleana was far from fazed, even as the powerful man began to squeeze her arm. Her demonic amber eyes only squeezed right back, boring like two white hot prongs through his.

"I know. She's the Last Mother." Her words only prompted the lords temper to flair. He pulled her upright, until she was mere inches from his face. Heleana smirked.

"My, daring this evening, aren't we?" Simmons didn't reply. He just ground his teeth, never letting his vicelike grip leave her tanned arm.

"How do you know that she's the Last Mother?!"

"In case you haven't noticed, Vlad; I'm the leader of the waning Mechanist Order. It's my business to track down and annihilate that Pagan refuse. However, in the case of that sweet abomination of yours...I would never dream of harming a hair on her precious little head."

"How can I be so sure?"

"Oh come now! Don't act like such a fool. You know what my plans are Vlad." Heleana felt as his grip loosened slightly. She violently tugged her wrist free, nearly causing the lord to fall from his chair. She stood from her stunned lover's lap, and placed a hand on her hip. Simmons could only gawk up at her in disbelief, which caused Heleana to chuckle.

"What's the matter Vlad? Had you forgotten how powerful I am? Of the gift my late father bestowed upon me?"

"No...I-"

"Here's the deal, sweetheart. I'll deliver Gwenevere. But..."

"Yes?"

"You, grant me full creative control over my factories; as well as a full legal pardon pertaining to anything that may, 'transpire' within...Do we have a deal?" She grinned suggestively, licking her dark red lips.

"I-Heleana. You know that I can't do that! You'd have to get that sort of request granted by Northcrest!" Heleana knelt before him, positioning her head between his trembling legs. She ran her right hand over his knee, and up. Simmons gasped.

"Now now Vlad. Elias is YOUR friend. And what kind of a woman would I be, if I went to talk to your chums behind your back, hmmm?"

"I-"

"Just make it happen." She whispered, her tone low and husky. Simmons felt as her hands found and began to tease the mold between his legs.

"I...yes. Yes, I'll secure you that permission Heleana..." He groaned. Instantly, she was on her feet.

"Excellent!" As she started away, the lord called to her.

"Heleana!"

"Relax Vlad. Get me my permissions and I'll get your Gwenevere back for you. These hands don't mind being full, after all." She winked.

With a loud scraping noise, the doors shook, and then swung wide open. The complex was full of machinery and signs. Pipes ran along the ceiling, and a loud whirring sound could be heard in the background, occasionally joined with other industrial sounds such as crashes and alarms.

Accompanied by two of her followers, Heleana walked down a series of halls with vibrating machines and assembly lines lining the way, occasionally ducking under low hanging wires or carefully stepping over steaming pipes.

"Gentleman. I trust that you shall embrace this opportunity. You two will be working in very close proximity with me, and together, we're going to make all kinds of progress." She coaxed. The two men accompanying her grinned at one another. They were by this point, all too aware of their mistresses love of innuendo and sexual puns. Their only hope, was that some of her teasing, was indeed sincere. "Now, let me tell you a story. Twenty five years ago, there lived a man. A man with a truly wonderous idea. So gifted and intelligent was he, that many considered him a literal diety. And, he was, in his own right. He split from the Hammerite organization to found his own faction, when he discovered that all organic life was inherently flawed. Thus, he planned to eliminate all organic life in the city, via his crowned invention; the Masked Servant. These servants were designed to be tireless and completely obedient. But it wasn't always this way; oh no! Originally, these perfect creations had been human refuse; undesirable low-class ilk. But thanks to the miracle of Mechanist biochemistry, they became...perfect." A glint of insanity shimmered in her eyes as she faced her comrades. The men exchanged worried looks. "But alas! It was not to be! That damned nymph! That meddling thief!" She snarled.

Somehow, Heleana managed to regain her composure as she unlocked the set of double doors at the end of the cramped corridor. She held out a hand, beckoning the two men inside. After which, she slammed the door behind them. They both turned, and looked around at the immense room. It was fairly empty, save for a large utility ramp and a peculiar looking machine with a series of tubes feeding out of it. A mechanized belt was attached to the ceiling, several hooks covered in rust hanging from it, spaced about five feet apart. Even further above that was a fairly complex object, with chains and gears hanging off of beams and pipes loosely.

Heleana turned back to her comrades and began speaking in a loud, authoritive voice.  
>"But Karras's plans did not die with him that day; oh no! Thanks to the unfaltering belief of his only child, the city shall not have to weep! For I alone, shall usher in a new age of change in his place. The Builder's Paradise is no longer a mere daydream; it is happening all around us even as we speak!" She laughed maniacally.<p>

"Mother Heleana. What are you talking about?" The bolder of the two men spoke up.

"This! The only fault our beloved Karras had! If only I could have told him! If only he had been given the opportunity to discover it for himself! Life energy!"

"I beg your pardon?"

"No boilers, no rust gas; it is all unnecessary! Don't you get it?! The key is conversion. Take organic life, and harvest it. Only then can the life energy be converted into a usable fuel. A fuel that my beautiful Metal Beings crave!" Heleana began to laugh again. Her amber eyes revealed no emotion; other than cold apathy coupled by hopeless insanity. She regained herself, and affixed her gaze back down upon the two men.

"Would you two like to see how this process works?"


	35. Chapter 35

MOIRA ASYLUM

ONE YEAR AGO:

Elias Northcrest stormed down the hallway, his cane clacking against the sterile white floor in the process. Behind him, trailed three members of his private guard, and his good friend; Sir Vladimir Simmons. The baron halted abruptly as the group he led reached a sealed door. A door to which only he had the key. He looked over his shoulder, his icy eyes scanning past the men and affixing upon the last member of the party. An older girl, who would be a woman within a month. Her hair was styled into a sea of wavy italian curls. She wore a soft brown cashmere dress with a pleated skirt. Short black boots clung to her ankles, which trembled like the ragged branches scraping against the window of the asylum. Her mind was petrified. All around her she felt it. Suffering. Torture. Death. She could hear the throat-shattering screams of the shock therapy victims, although they were stories beneath her feet. She could feel the poisons these poor people were willingly consuming, under the false apprehension that it was indeed, medicine. The room began to tilt around her, as her heart refused to process any more of this. Her eyes ceased to perceive color, and her feet cemented to the floor. Desperately, she clutched at the wooden carving around her throat for comfort.

"Gwenevere!" Simmons barked. The girl shot straight up and stared at her father.

"Yes?" She replied meekly.

"Stupid girl! The baron is addressing you!" The lord snorted, motioning towards Elias. Gwenevere gulped down her tension, and affixed her green irises on him.

"Yes sir?"

"You can do this, can't you Gwenevere?" He asked. Although practically everyone she had met regarded Baron Northcrest with fear and hatred, in her youthful navity, Gwenevere didn't understand just why this was. Although he appeared intimidating and cold, he always seemed unsure and terrified in his own right. But of what?

"Of course she can!" Lord Simmons snapped, his friendship with the powerful baron over the years had rendered him audacious. No longer did he hold any sort of fear for the cities aging leader. And why should he? The girl he now held at arm's length would one day grant him said power instead.

"I certainly hope so. We've tried everything else..." With a decisive nod, the baron unlocked the door. He held out a hand as Simmons and the guards proceeded to enter after him. "Just...Gwenevere." Before she could object, the lord prodded Gwenevere forward.

"You heard him! Get in there!" He growled. Gwenevere yelped at the sudden hard poke from his cane, but she did not object. She knew better than to defy her father. At least for now.

"Right this way." Elias nodded, beckoning for her to follow him. With that, the large door slammed shut behind them.

Gwenevere shielded her eyes as she entered the bright operating room. As her eyes struggled to focus, she could hear a young woman cursing.

"Get away from me!" She snarled, her voice raspy as if she had been yelling for hours. Gwenevere squinted in her direction. She nearly gasped when she saw a girl barely older than she strapped down to an operating table. Her black hair was extremely short, giving her an almost boyish look. Small, barely visible freckles covered her upper cheeks and nose, and she wore deep black circles under her eyes. And what eyes they were! Vivid, icy blue irises. Eyes that would make even sapphires appear dim and worthless by any comparison. Gwenevere found herself transfixed upon those eyes; not because of their luster, but rather the deep, unending torment within. While the exacts were still very unknown, one thing was certain.

The woman before her, had been through complete and absolute hell.

The baron approached the blue-eyed girl, and stared pensively at her. He then turned his attention to the accompanying doctor.

"How is her condition? Is she stable this time?"

"Yes, my lordship. For now."

"Now is all the time we need. Gwenevere. Please come here." He ordered, never even turning to look at her. Gwenevere shyly did as she was bade, still clutching the wooden trinket around her throat. The blue-eyed girl grew from angry and defensive, to confused and apprehensive.

"Who the hell is she?!" Her words prompted the surgeon to inject her with a long metal syringe. Gwenevere froze and watched as those incredible blue irises contracted with shock. The girl's body lurched once, and then she began to convulse. Suddenly, the baron grabbed Gwenevere's unsuspecting wrist. She looked up into his weathered eyes.

They were blazing with insanity.

"Now Gwenevere! Use your powers to extract the Primal from her!" Gwenevere gaped in horror. Was THAT why she was here?! Looking back down into the face of this strange girl, her heart began to burn.

The Primal was really inside this girl?! How did it possibly...

She began to tremble as the memory found her. This...this was the girl who had interrupted the baron's ritual. The Last Mother ritual. The thief whose blunder had inadvertently prevented that disaster. As the dark whispers found her ears, Gwenevere leered up at the baron. How could he be alright with all of this?! How could any of them? This place...it was supposed to be a hospital for the mentally ill. Not a dungeon of torture and sorrow. The sensation began to return.

"Alright. I'll do what must be done." Extending her hand, she touched the blue-eyed girl's writing body. Gwenevere closed her eyes, allowing her magic to absorb the toxic mixture of debilitating drugs. Her form lurched once, before her breathing returned to normal. Once again, Gwenevere was able to see those magnificent blue eyes. The baron was infuriated.

"What have you done?! You were supposed to extract the Primal; not the medication!"

"Foolish human. In your greedy folly, you nearly killed her!" Gwenevere hissed, her voice growing deep and gutteral. The girl strapped down to the table began to stare at met her gaze, and emeralds collided with sapphires. In one swift motion, the Pagan witch brought her hand up. Green nature magic stemmed from her fingertips, and sliced effortlessly through Erin's binds.

"W-what was that?! Who are you?!" Erin demanded, in a panic-stricken tone. Gwenevere didn't answer her question; for she was now completely unable to hear it. The actions of these sadistic humans had enraged her, awakening the diety within. The Pagan influence now held her.

And she, was going to do serious damage.

Sir Vladimir Simmons looked up from his novel as a nurse came bursting through the locked doorway. She was out of breath from a combination of running and panting, and her uniform was sticky with blood. Instantly, the lord was on his feet.

"What the hell just happened?!" He shouted at her. Before the nurse could answer him, some unseen force began slamming against the sealed metal door. It started to creak and dent.

"It's...it's Gwenevere! She's out of control again sir!" The nurse broke into a full-panic run as the once soild door caved free from its frame. Thick ferns came rushing out, clinging and creeping across the empty hallway. Simmons took a brave step forwards, preparing himself for the worst possible thing that could come through.

Which he knew, was Gwenevere.

The inside of the operating room was chaos. The team of highly trained doctors, nurses and surgeons now found themselves utterly helpless in wake of what was transpiring. Every able-bodied staff member was at the baron's behest, struggling to hold back the enraged demon creature before them. They wouldn't last long, however. Several protesting nurses were snatched up by large sprigs of ivy as they burst through the tiled operating room. The vicious, leafy whips then slammed them back down hard, each with a bone-shattering crunch. The great maw of the Wood Beast that Gwenevere had become gave a deafening roar of fury as she struggled to break free of her captors.

"Hold her! Just a bit longer, until her father-" The baron demanded, desperation in his voice. He was cut short when the wall of asylum staff members tore apart by the enraged Gwenevere. The creature was up on her back legs, her claws tearing at the air. A small gash down her side leaked a sticky yellow sap, and her coat of moss and flowers glistened with fresh crimson. An unearthly howl passed her bark-like fangs, as her green eyes grew lustrous.

The blue-eyed girl was there too, cowering in the corner of the room. In her terror, she had no idea what this creature was attempting to do.

That Gwenevere had indeed, saved Erin's life.

These short months in the asylum had begun to fracture her mind. The presence of the Primal stone being part of her; sharing her soul...it was unwittingly leading to psychological problems that no amount of therapy could ever hope to cure. Somehow, Gwenevere had known this; and she wanted to help her.

Without stopping to think, she stood, and darted down the nearest corridor. She had no idea where she was going, but any chance at freedom was one that she had to take. Erin glanced backwards momentarily, her heart pounding. The noise the enraged Wood Beast made in its ongoing attack drowned out any other sound in her head. She had known fear before, but now; she was literally drowning in terror. Had she been less fearful and more attuned to what was going on around her, she might have made it out.

Electricity rocketed through Erin's body as one of the baron's elite rounded the corner behind her, shocking her with the prong that the asylum used in their therapy sessions. Her body fell limp, and she blacked out.

Bestial Gwenevere continued her tirade. The inside of the operating room was now thick with the scent of blood and death. Screams could be heard as she sank her wooden fangs into the lead doctor, causing the baron to recoil in shock.

"Lockdown! It's an official lockdown! Do not allow any of the patients to escape; and do not allow the girl with the Primal within her to perish!"

As the surviving doctors formed a tight-knit circle around the baron, easing him away from the monster, Simmons came crashing through the door. He held in his hands a small, star cut ruby. Showing absolutely no fear, he held it up to the verdant mess of beast and legend.

"Gwenevere! Stand down!" He ordered. Upon hearing his command, the Wood Beast turned from her latest victim, blood dripping down her great maw. Her eyes flew open at the sight of the Trickster's Foresight; the name of the Pagan artifact that Lord Simmons held in his hand. The relic began to glow an ominous red hue as the unseen demon within picked up on the presence of the Last Mother.

Instantly, Gwenevere recoiled in agony. She screamed and thrashed as the relic toyed with her mind and body, forcing the beast to withdraw back into the frightened young girl. This process was unnatural; and it caused Gwenevere to feel a burning sensation like nothing she had ever felt before. Elias stopped midway out the door, and questioned his old friend as to what he was doing.

"It's my way of dominating her. She may be a deity, but as long as that side of her remains unawakened, her forebear still holds power over her. As does the one who holds his relic." Simmons smirked, watching Gwenevere as she tensed and spasmed. The little nymph didn't struggle anymore; she'd given up. Now, her only focus was on choking back screams of agony.

As the last of the Wood Beast receded back into her body, she slumped over in a defeated pile of red hair and bloody clothes. Slowly, Simmons withdrew and pocketed the ruby. He pranced over to his downed child with a delighted sneer of accomplishment. Hesitantly, so too did the baron.

"Is it over? Is she-"

"Yes. She's powerless again. For now." Elias looked around the destroyed room, hearing as nurses and doctors from the lower floors ran through the panic-stricken hallways of the asylum. He wiped his sweltering forehead.

"What a mess..."

"Don't worry. I'm still learning to control her powers. But rest assured; after tonight, Gwenevere will never disobey me again."

Gwenevere awoke hours later. She was back in her bedchambers at the Simmons estate, still dressed in her blood-stained brown dress. She shakily stood, and made her way over to the large bay window at the center of the room. The glass structure was easily as tall as she was, and a comfortable cushioned bench had been built just beneath it. Several throw pillows, teddy bears, and other stuffed animals lined either side of the bench, giving her room an almost childlike feel. Gwenevere plopped down upon the soft pink cushions, watching the moon fill the vastness of the heavens with splendor and light.

"You were careless today Gwenevere..." Her father's voice caught her off-guard, making her jump. The young woman stood and faced the unseen shadows before her. Sir Vladimir Simmons, stepped out from his hiding place. "What have I told you about using your powers in public?!"

"Father! I-" She began. "They were hurting that girl! I couldn't stand it, I just snapped!" She pleaded as the first of several tears pricked at her long eyelashes. Simmons wasted no time. He grabbed Gwenevere by the hair, causing her to shriek.

"Stupid little pagan garbage! Do you realize what you could have ended up costing me?!" In one violent motion, he pushed her forward, retracting his fingers from her wavy locks. Gwenevere slammed down hard against the pale blue carpeting of her bedroom floor. But the lord wasn't satisfied just yet.

Grabbing her hair again, he pulled Gwenevere up, forcing her to her knees. Holding back her head to meet his sadistic glare, a cold grin found his lips.

"You didn't save her Gwenevere. You only made things worse on her. Do you know what they'll have to do to extract the Primal from her now?" His expression, coupled with her vibrant imagination caused the tears to begin to flow forth. What would they do to that poor blue-eyed girl?!

"I...I didn't know..."

"Why did you think the baron decided to entrust this to you? He didn't WANT to have to hurt her. But now, thanks to you; he has no other choice!" As Gwenevere began to tremble and sob uncontrollably, Simmons noticed the wooden object around her throat. With his free hand he tore it off her neck. Gwenevere's eyes flew open.

"NO!" Her words fell on the deaf ears of her tormentor. Simmons took up the object between his thumb and forefinger, and gave her a cruel laugh.

"Alright Gwenevere. Here's how it's going to work from now on. You listen to me. You do everything I tell you to; without question. Otherwise..." And with that, he dropped the object at his feet. Before Gwenevere could retrieve it, he slammed his booted foot down upon the artifact, splintering it to pieces. Gwenevere felt her heart lock up. She watched numbly as her father lifted his foot, revealing the shattered pendant beneath. The last thing the forgotten nymph had of her mother. Simmons watched her fall forward, curling up into a fetal position around the shattered memento.

"I trust that we understand one another."

The lord then stormed out of her chambers, leaving a broken Gwenevere to sob in silence. But no more tears left her eyes that night.

She was out of them...


	36. Chapter 36

Gwenevere and Garrett sat on the edge of the city bell tower. The moon was full that night. They had since returned to the city, after the thief was certain that his apprentice was fully healed. Although he still hadn't told Gwenevere about the new allegations against him. He knew that she would never agree to return if he had. No normal person would. But once again, the thief's arrogance had prevailed. The watch had been searching for him for years; and they hadn't managed to catch him yet. What persistance would one more smudge on his criminal record bring? Those overfed dogs were about as lazy and unmotivated as they came.

He glanced over at Gwenevere. She was swinging her legs back and forth as they dangled from the rooftop, a gleeful smile pasted across her face.

"You look happy." Garrett commented.

"I am." She replied, her eyes still taking in the smokey world below. "This city is always so beautiful at night."

"You're not the first to notice." The thief grunted, stretching slightly. He placed a firm, yet loving hand around her shoulder, causing the nymph to look up into his awaiting expression. "It's nice to finally have someone to share it with."

"I love how the moon reflects the rooftops after a rain. Have you ever noticed that Garrett?"

"Yeah." He smiled sadly.

"I never...I never told anyone that before. It seems that I've told you so many things that no one else knows." Gwenevere explained. The thief's cunning eyes sparkled at her tender sentiment. His caring expression made her feel a tiny bit better, and she released the persistent thought at the base of her mind.

"Can I...can I tell you something else?"

"Of course." Gwenevere suddenly grew very sad. She faced Garrett, and instantly, he could see that his inital judgement of her mood had been very badly mistaken. She wasn't gleeful at all.

She was apprehensive.

"Gwenevere. You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to."

"No, I-," She sighed, running a hand through her unkempt auburn hair. Gwenevere shuddered suddenly. Then, she held her face in her hands and began to weep softly.

"Gwenevere?"

"I-I don't know what I should do! I want the voices inside my head to stop! And yet, some part of me feels that what they have to say is important. But how could this be Garrett?! They tell me to kill people!"

Gwenevere brooded over this for a moment, and Garrett thought she wouldn't continue this time. However she did; and with a voice that poorly hid the torture behind her words. "Forgive me, this is awkward. I've never talked openly like this to anyone. I-I never had any friends...until I met you." Garrett scooched closer to her, wrapping his cloak around her trembling shoulders. A flock of ravens flew off into the night as twelve hollow chimes echoed throughout the city. The forte of beautiful bells would normally have caused the shy little creature to jump. But Gwenevere was now too completely lost to even hear them.

Very little had been expected of her, and she had delivered even less. She had never yearned for anything; except to alleviate any and all suffering from the mancreatures she encountered. To bring joy and life into this dead city. Never had she questioned her place in the world. Purpose had been all but a foreign word to her. She existed; nothing more.

Until now.

She slowly rose to meet the eyes of her teacher, her own optics still glazed over and lost.

"He told me, you know."

"Who told you what Gwenevere?"

"The Temple Keeper. Before we left. He told me that I had to make a decision."

"Oh?" Already, Garrett did not like the sound of this. "And what would that be?"

"You do know...what I am right? Whose blood flows through my veins."

"Yes. All too well." The thief snorted, simultaneously tracing the scar that ran along his right eye.

"The temple keeper said that I had one last chance to embrace my status as a diety. I-I don't know what to do..." She stammered.

"That depends. Do you want to be a goddess, Gwenevere?"

"Not as such..." Her answer surprised him. Although he now knew all too well that Gwenevere was not a power-hungry noble; this particular decision was more than just a matter of status or wealth. This was the option to partake in a ritual as old as time. A ritual that would open up her soul to the abyss of time and space; awakening an absolute, and unquestionable power within her. Garrett almost asked her why she would deign to desire such a power, but he was nervous about accidentally persuading her.

And he could be very persuasive.

"Gwenevere. It's your decision, not mine."

"What would you do Garrett?" She asked, in an almost fearful tone. Her question was so unexpected, that it caused the weary thief to chuckle. Gwenevere fumed. "Hey! Why are you laughing at me?!"

"I'm sorry Gwenevere. It's just, I never gave the idea of becoming a god much thought. It's not one of my usual fantasies anyway..." He sighed, and began again in a far more serious voice. "But joking aside, I can't even begin to fathom what you just asked me. Like I already told you, this is a choice that you have to make; all on your own."

"How?"

"Gwenevere. When the time comes to make that choice, you'll know." His eyes grew distant and mournful. "Belive me."

"But how? How will I know?!" She demanded. "I don't feel things the way normal people do Garrett. You once told me, that my mother was above human reasoning, remember?"

"Yes, I remember."

"Well sometimes...as much as I would like to pretend otherwise; sometimes I think that I am too..."

"Gwenevere..." Gwenevere's lip quivered for a moment, and she tore her gaze away from his. The thief frowned. The pain he could feel coming from his nymph was heartbreaking. Placing both hands gently on her cheeks, Garrett locked eyes with her. "You may be a nymph. You may be the daughter of a vindictive god. But don't think for even a moment that you lack empathy."

"Garrett...is it..." Gwenevere started, staring up at him as pitifully as a lost child. "Is it normal, to... to want to be with someone forever?" Garrett felt as the blood rushed away from his face. His eyes flew open, and his left pupil dilated. Even his mechanized eye seemed to involuntarily sputter and hiss.

Was that why she was having such a difficult time deciding? Did she...want to stay with him?!

He hesitated. It wasn't the fact that he didn't want to answer her question. Garrett genuinely didn't know how.

"A lot of people seem to think so."

"Have you ever felt that way about someone?" Again, her words caught him unguarded.

"I'm honestly not sure Gwenevere..." The thief leaned in and kissed her lightly, as the tears continued to fall from her celadon eyes. "But if you're suggesting what I think you are..." Her hand met his, and Gwenevere returned the kiss, more deeply, a searing need behind her lips. She nearly gasped when he abruptly pulled away.

"What's the matter?"

"Gwenevere. I'm unsure if I can indeed give you what you want." He looked upon her confused expression through saddened eyes.

"Garrett?" The thief wanted so badly to turn around at that moment and embrace her, but something inside him told him not to. He struggled to fight the feeling off as he continued to walk away.

"Garrett...please..." Gwenevere pleaded. Garrett winced at what he was about to do. But it had to be done. She was getting too close to him. And he could never give such a perfect creature what she sought.

He wasn't forever material.

He hung his head. It was like a pain he'd never experienced before, and he knew that it was no doubt even worse for her. However, he had his reasons for inflicting it. Garrett had long known how feelings could distort and skew the world. Why else would Gwenevere choose him over the destiny of a goddess?! It was pure madness! The thief hoped that his blunt statement would allow her to put things in perspective, and hopefully; make a wise decision regarding her future. As much as it tore him apart, Garrett never wanted to be selfish about his feelings for her. He wanted the best for Gwenevere; he always had. And as selfish as he was; Garrett knew that keeping the last remaining nymph on earth to himself was very wrong.

"Truth is, I want to say yes." He stared blankly out over the expanse of slumbering city beneath him. "But...Gwenevere. You by now have no doubt noticed how much older than you I am. Even if you did forgo your powers, even we did remain together the rest of my days, I would still die long before you do..."

"I've made up my mind! No matter what you do, I'm not leaving your side!" She proclaimed. Garrett watched as she retracted a familiar green orb from her pouch.

The Woodsie Emerald.

"GWENEVERE! NO!" Garrett barked, well aware of what she planned to do with said relic. Gwenevere's eyes sparkled as she cast it down into the city below. The thief watched as the glistening object careened through the night, landing unseen on the cobbles below with a distant shatter. His eyes once more met those of his apprentice.

"I know what you tried to do Garrett, and belive me, you're far more noble than you give yourself credit for. But my decision was made the night I ran away. I still have so much to learn from you, so many people in this city that need my help. Being with you didn't influence my choice in the least; you're only guilty of one crime in my book, Master Thief."

"And what would that be?"

"Saving me." She smiled, bringing her face up with his as they shared another passionate kiss.

"That, doesn't seem like much of a crime." Garrett smirked, the harsh winter wind whipping across his cloak.

"There are plenty of evil people in this city that would disagree with you. They want me dead Garrett; because they have plans that will kill everyone and everything. The forest is a small price to pay, if it means that I can save the world instead." The thief continued to hold her, his body afire with Gwenevere's presence.

"Do you really intend to do that? Save the world? How would you even know where to start?"

"It's simple. I have a great teacher." She winked.


	37. Chapter 38

THREE WEEKS LATER:

Gwenevere held the rough edges of the silver lock picks between her fingers. She must have stared at the locked crate before her for hours; completely unsure of herself. Garrett had locked said crate, telling her that for her next lesson, she would need to use her picks to open it. The young woman gulped down a wad of bitter nerves. She could feel him behind her, smell his smoky musk all around her. His presence was making it difficult for her to concentrate, especially on a new and unknown task. Finally, Garrett intercepted.

"Do you need me to go over it again?" He asked.

"N-no Garrett! That's ok. I'm just..." She mulled over her situation again. The darkened keyhole before her seemed to be watching her through an invisible eye; taunting her.

"You know, this early in your training it's common for an apprentice to require assistance." Garrett began again. He grunted as he squatted down, his chin now just above Gwenevere's right ear. She gasped as his calloused hands took up her silken digits. The thief traced her tiny hands, sliding his fingers into place until they covered each of her own. He began to press.

"What are you doing?" She asked, intrigued.

"Just let them go limp..." Garrett murmured, his hot breath catching the nymph's earlobe. She shuddered, feeling as her pelvis locked up at the scent of the pheromones on his breath. Gwenevere's body was no longer her own. Involuntarily out of a deep-rooted lust, she began to relax. The thief's eyes flashed when he felt this change, and he began his instruction. "You need to insert the straight tool here, and apply some pressure." He demonstrated this using the tension wrench in her left hand. Gwenevere's green eyes watched his demonstration, absorbing every visual into memory. "You do this in order to hold the pins in place. Next, you need to determine which way the cylinder must be turned to unlock the lock. I've commonly used this particular lock, so I already know which way you turn the key to open it. But I'm not going to tell you Gwenevere; that would ruin your training." He smirked.

"No fair!" She protested, returning the playful expression. Garrett chuckled softly.

"In the event that you don't know, you can use the tension wrench to apply pressure to the cylinder, first clockwise and then counterclockwise. The cylinder will only turn a fraction of an inch before it stops. Try to feel the firmness of the stop. If you turn the cylinder the wrong way, the stop should feel very firm and stiff. If you turn it the right way, there should be a bit more give. The amount of pressure required will vary from lock to lock and from pin to pin, so this may require some trial and error. Start gently, though."

"I see." Gwenevere's eyes glistened.

"Also, some locks, such as padlocks, will open regardless of which way the cylinder is turned."

"Good to know."

"Alright. I'm giving you your hands back now Gwenevere. Try to do it as I told you." Gwenevere scrunched up her face in concentration, her tongue poking past her lips a little as she began to work. Placing her right hand against the chest for support, she inserted and positioned the tension wrench. She turned it to the left slightly, feeling as the pressure intensified.

Nope. She thought to herself, and tried the right. This time, the wrench turned the cylinder a bit further before the tension increased.

"I think I found the right direction Garrett!" She proclaimed. The thief's solemn eyes danced. Indeed she had. "Do I take it out now?"

"You don't. Once all the pins inside the lock have been picked, the tension wrench will then be used to turn the cylinder and open the lock." He explained. Gwenevere nodded, watching as Garrett took control of her hands a second time.

"You're right-handed, so you'll need to work the lock with this one. Makes it easier."

"Ok."

"You'll use the betty here," Garrett muttered, sticking the half-diamond pick into the keyhole, "to do most of the work. Once the pick is inside the keyhole, you should be able to press up and feel the individual pins with the tip. You should be able to push them up and feel them spring back down when you release the pressure. Try to push each one all the way up. Identify which one is the hardest to push up on. If they're all very easy to push up, then turn the tension wrench more to increase the pressure. If one won't go up at all, ease the tension until you can push it up. Later on in your training, I'll show you how to rake the pins instead. There are certain situations in which this may work better." Garrett explained. He encouraged his apprentices hands forward. Gwenevere felt such excitement watching as he worked fluidly through her. He had to press firmly against her fingers and the handle of the pick, which was a tad uncomfortable, but she didn't mind.

The entire experience was too fascinating for her to mind.

"Gwenevere." His voice nearly caused her to yip; she had been paying more attention to his busy hands than to the actual lecture.

"Yes?" She looked over her shoulder, brushing her small nose against his stubble-covered cheek. Garrett froze, and looked down into her delicate facial features. Those supernatural pagan eyes were hypnotizing him again; calling for him.

Slowly, he loosened his grip on her hand, letting both her extremity and the pick drop. The tool hit with a barely audible click against the wooden floorboards. Confused, Gwenevere turned around to face her distracted mentor. His eyes were trembling, his mouth slightly agape. "Garrett? Are you alright?"

"Gwenevere. What are you doing?!" He began in a low whisper.

"I-I'm sorry! You let my hand go, so I-"

"-No." The thief interrupted her. "No, not the lesson..." He stared at her; into her. Gwenevere couldn't help but notice that his hazel right eye was riddled with deep emotion. More than she had ever seen in Garrett before. Instantly, she knew that something was wrong.

"Garrett? What's happening?"

"I have no idea. I-" He stopped himself, and shakily brought his large hand up to her cheek. He felt the supple skin, which resembled the down of a ripe peach. His apprentice slowly closed her marvellous eyes, content with his touch; releasing him from her gaze. "Gwenevere. I have seldom found myself at another's mercy. I'm usually too quick to be captured; I can smell a trap from a mile away." He receded his hand from her face. Gwenevere recoiled slightly.

"Are you...under the misaprehension...that I intend to trap you, Garrett?" Gwenevere gasped. The thief shook his head, letting his gaze fall to the floor.

"A wise man once told me, that it takes skill to see one who does not wish to be seen." He turned away, both eyes now lost within the shadows. "But you leave me wondering Gwenevere; how much skill does it indeed take, to capture a heart that refuses to be loved?"

Gwenevere was dumbstruck. She trembled on her knees, completely at a loss as to how to reply. In all honesty, she didn't think that she could. Sensation and voice had left her person, rendering her temporarily mute. Instead, she just watched Garrett as the thief mulled over his own dilemma. She had never seen him so uncertain before, in the entirety of her apprenticeship. What had triggered this? Just a moment ago, Garrett was content in his lesson, and the young woman thought that she was doing well enough. But the way he looked now, so lost within the confines of his own world; it was as if there hadn't even been a lesson that evening.

"I'm, not really sure what you're trying to tell me." She offered, finding her voice.

"Neither am I." Garrett spoke quietly. "This...quandry. This development. It is unlike anything that I have ever encountered before."

"Garrett...Is it, my fault?"

"I need to tell you something Gwenevere. You frighten me. I know that you love me, that you regard me with only the deepest levels of respect and devotion. But in spite of that..." He shot her a worried glare. He was direly afraid of ruining the precious connection he had with her. He wasn't the best with women; yet another reason to avoid relationships. Anytime he was near a woman, it was always her jewelry that drew his eye, instead of the other, more common places. And the way he spoke to them differed very little from how he would address another man. He had no doubt that Gwenevere had noticed this.

And how could she not? I haven't even told her that I love her yet!

The thief rubbed his temples. Why was she still here? Why was she so willing to forgive his flaws in an area which most women would consider rude or careless? What was it about him, that the little nymph fancied so?

"Gwenevere. I know what you are, and I have seen first hand what you are capable of with your magic. You have the power to sweep this city of life in one wave of your hand, should you accept your status as a goddess."

"Is that...why I frighten you?" Gwenevere asked worriedly, her eyes wide. Tears began to form beneath her eyelids. She would never hurt Garrett! Didn't he know this?!

"No." The thief stood. Gwenevere followed suit. "Gwenevere, I've never spoken to anyone nearly as much as I do you. I've never wanted to. I have never allowed anyone too close. I didn't think I needed anyone; wanted anyone." His eyes met hers in an inferno of passionate splendor. "Until you, my Gwenevere."

"Garrett?"

"What frightens me, is that you have consumed my thoughts. Your face never leaves my minds eye; even when I'm asleep." He paused again, his voice trembling. "Gwenevere, I know that you care about me; I also know that you love me. I know that's why you broke the Woodsie Emerald. Why you refuse to accept your status as a diety." Gwenevere was silent, watching him with her wild eyes. "If you truly want to be with me, I will not try and stop you. However," He ran his arm down from her shoulder to her awaiting bosom. Gwenevere gasped and looked deep within his bi-colored eyes. "One day, you WILL be forced from my side; either by destiny, or by choice. I want you to think about that long and hard Gwenevere. You cannot forgo this power. As I told you when we first met; it's in you. Do you understand this?"

"Yes" The nymph replied solemnly. "As long as I can be with you, however short, it will be enough for me."

Garrett took his gloved hand up in his teeth and slowly pulled the article free. He brought his hand up between the folds of Gwenevere's skirt and graced her thigh muscles with his warm hands, causing her to gasp. Her pagan eyes shimmered like stars in the darkness, her ruby hair illuminated by candlelight. Garrett couldn't be sure, but for a moment, he thought he witnessed a thick green vine coil down from the folds of her skirt. But when he looked again, it had vanished.

Must have been a trick of the light. He reasoned.

"I need you." Gwenevere beckoned, her gentle voice coated with suggestion. Her words were like adrenaline to his already eager muscles. She didn't need to tell him twice. Without even the slightest warning, the agile thief leapt upon her, pounding her into the floor. Gwenevere allowed him to straddle her, and locked eyes with her teacher. They were like an intense storm; intent on ravaging every corner of her body.

She was the one forbidden treasure that he could never hope to abstain from.

She lay there, her heart interlocked with his. These were special, silent moments. Moments in which her thief opened himself to her; and only her. Some part of Gwenevere knew that he had never done this before, at least not like this. The way he held her, how he cradled her head in his hands. The hesitant yet hungry way he drove himself into her. These notations of hers held deep meaning; although she would never figure them out until much later on. For the moment, Gwenevere was just content to be with Garrett.

To enjoy him in his entirety.

The surreal hues of blue light were just beginning to come through the window of the clock tower, but Garrett was awake and dressed. He exhaled a long sigh and crept quietly across the floor. He approached the stone window of the tower, and looked down upon the city, just starting to stir with life. He had all but forgotten what morning was like. The way the sun cast its fire in a different direction, or the slight change in the hues of its flames. He watched as doves, not ravens, took flight from the scaffolding and dove into the waking world below. Their gentle cooing was strangely comforting to hear.

From behind, Pilfur approached and nudged his leg. Garrett looked down at the little cat, who returned the gaze. Pilfur mewed sweetly, his eyes dilating into thin crescent slits as the sunbeams hit his tiny face.

"No, you can't eat them." The thief scoffed at himself, the idea of talking to a cat seemed absurd. Thoughts of the other night began to weave their way into his mind._ Gwenevere..._

A flame of realization burned his chest. He knew that she was one treasure that he couldn't keep. Although she had blatantly refused to leave his side, Garrett knew that one day she would have to. He cared for her too much to allow her to remain. While he didn't know much about women, Garrett knew enough. He knew that they wanted stability. They wanted to fall in love. Marriage. Children. Forever.

The thief released another sigh. Even if she wasn't a human woman, she was a woman nonetheless. Her urges and desires were still the same. Perhaps more than anyone, his apprentice wanted closure. To end her old life, and burst open the doorway of a new and promising one. She wanted a future.

And Garrett could never give her that.


	38. Chapter 39

THE HEART OF THE PAGAN WOOD

SIXTEEN YEARS AGO:

_ Viktoria's ink-black mane billowed wildly in the frigid air. A change was coming; she could feel it. All around her, the forest was dying. She could hear the plants and animals scream as the toxins of the city found and claimed them one by one. Her green eyes narrowed and began to gleam a hellish red. Karras. She had never wanted to impale a manfool with her branches more than she did at that very moment. And very soon, she would get her chance._

_ The nymph glanced over her shoulder into a nest of leaves and soft moss. There lay the slumbering form of a tiny, ruby haired toddler. Although she was no older than two, Viktoria knew full well that she was far from helpless. Casting her eyes up to meet the ivory moon, the wood nymph shuddered. She needed to make this alliance work; even if it ended up killing her. _

_ She still despised Garrett for what he had done. Humans and their pitiful vengeance. The way they would throw their lives to the wind for the sake of preserving their hollow and corrupt world. He was coming soon. Some of her scouts had spotted him tailing someone into the woods. One of those foul mechanists, no doubt. Viktoria looked to her right, where the disemboweled remains of the last intruders lay strewn. More, would surly come. _

_ From the confines of her bed of leaves and flowers, the child began to stir. She sat with a tiny yawn, causing her mother to smile. The child's eyes flashed in a blaze of yellow and green swirls. She opened her mouth, and addressed her beloved parent in a forgotten tongue. The wood nymph smiled and nodded. Giving a slight giggle, the little creature clambered out of her bed and raced away into the surrounding foliage. Viktoria watched her play, a single shred of emotion gripping at her heart. _

_Yes, for the sake of her forest; the sake of the future. The future of her only child. _

_She HAD to make this work._

_"Dyan. Come forth." Viktoria spoke in human tongue this time. From beyond the shadows of a weeping willow tree, a dark-skinned woman emerged. She bowed graciously before the nymph._

_"You calls, my Woodsie Lady?" Viktoria loomed over her submissive form, towering over the little human, her eyes dark and brooding. Her skin grew from a verdant green to hard and ligneous. _

_"Has he entered our territory?"_

_"The thiefsies? Yes, he bes here." The wood nymph's elegant face contorted into a malicious, yet adamant grin._

_"Good. Then let us go and formally greet our new 'partner'."_

THE CITY

PRESENT DAY:

"Garrett, you're brooding again." Gwenevere smiled, brushing away a strand of ruby hair from her eyes. "Why do you do that so often?"

"I've never really given it much thought Gwenevere."

"Oh, okay." She stood up and stretched her long legs. Garrett watched as she skipped across the floor before practically throwing herself to her knees before Pilfur. "Hi kitty!" She cooed. Her random childish actions nearly caused the thief to chuckle. She was so innocent and placid around him, around Pilfur. And yet, she had the power to horrifically end any and all who posed a threat to anything or anyone she held dear. He averted his gaze back towards the clock tower window. Garrett wondered, if she indeed even knew of the burden she had inadvertently placed upon his weary shoulders.

Of how the baron and the city watch now blamed him for the murder of the Thief-Taker General.

He wouldn't be safe within his clock tower forever. But for the moment, he remained. Garrett had nowhere else to go. Nowhere else left to hide. The Rat King, as the nefarious general used to call him, was running out of shadows. And that was something, that Garrett wasn't used to.

Something that he wasn't prepared for.

"Meow?" Gwenevere's voice echoed slightly through the hollow dankness of the tower. The thief looked down the stairs at her, crooking an eyebrow. The girl was still kneeling in front of Pilfur, but now she had her face just above his, and was making feline impressions for the kitten. Strangely, the cat would imitate the sound, almost replying to her impersonation of him. Gwenevere would merely repeat the sound, with varying pitches and extensions. Then, Pilfur would do the same.

Garrett must have watched the odd conversation for a good five minutes before clearing his throat. Gwenevere looked up at him through wide eyes.

"Gwenevere? What are you doing?" Her response was not even close to anything he had expected her to say.

"Garrett? Why didn't you tell me?!"

"Tell you, what, exactly?"

"That they were after you! They think you killed that bad man, but it was me!" Her eyes shuddered with emotion, and Gwenevere fought hard to keep the tears from coming. "You didn't kill him Garrett! It was me! It was all me! They can't do this to you! They can't do th-" Garrett stomped down the steps to the bend in the stairway where his lover and apprentice now stood. In an attempt to calm her, he cupped his thin fingers around her upper arms and shook her once.

"Gwenevere! Calm down!" Her mouth still agape, Gwenevere ceased her hysterics and allowed the tears to leave her eyes instead. The thief withdrew his right hand from her, and gently clasped her cheek. He began to stroke it gingerly, causing her to gasp from his touch. Even with his calloused digits and thick leather gloves, his caress was still warm and soft. A stream of salty tears glided over his middle finger as he stroked. The thief smiled.

"That's not quite what I had in mind, my Gwenevere." He offered, pulling her head into his awaiting chest. Gwenevere let loose, weeping bitterly as she trembled against the slick leather. Garrett ran his hands over her soft red locks, his eyes locked on an unseeable void directly in front of him, and his mind lost in thought. Although he did not show it, he was genuinly concerned over what fates would befall him, should he be captured. And while Garrett hadn't initially believed this even a remote possibility, he now realized the inevitable.

He couldn't stay hidden in his tower forever.

Muffled by the leather, Gwenevere's weepy voice stammered.

"Garrett...l-let me take the blame for this. L-let me t-turn myself in...I d-don't care w-what they do to me. It would be worth it t-to save y-you!" Garrett's eyes widened and his mouth formed a simple smile. Gwenevere's selfless nobility never ceased to amaze him. Gently prying her free from his chest, he wiped away the last of her tears and squatted to bring himself to her level. The thief locked eyes with her, and crooked his head to the side a little; examining her distraught expression. Her face was a cluster of fear, guilt, and deep sorrow. She refused to meet his stares. Instead, her forlorn green eyes remained locked upon the dirty wooden floor.

"Gwenevere." Garrett beckoned. She still refused to meet his gaze. The thief grinned with challenge, and tried again. "Can you look at me please?" Slowly and reluctantly, the little nymph did as she was asked, although her head was still off to the side.

"Yes?" She whispered.

"What did I tell you about that man? He deserved what he got. You killed him to save my life. You did the right thing Gwenevere."

"Not if it gets you killed! Oh Garrett! Do you even know what the baron does to those who murder public officials?!" Her pupils dilated in terror.

"From that look you're giving me, I have a pretty good idea it's worse than being hung." The thief scoffed dryly.

"Garrett, this is no time for jokes!"

"I wasn't joking. It sounds pretty rough." He grinned again. Gwenevere was far from amused.

"Please. Just let me save you..."

"You're intentions are good. But remember Gwenevere; there's no honor among thieves" He offered.

"So the old saying goes..." She wiped her eyes. "But thanks to you, I now know that's not true." Garrett was touched by her words, but he still wasn't about to let her turn herself in. Gwenevere was stubborn; but not as stubborn as he was.

"Gwenevere. Who told you about the allegations?" The nymph smiled, and pointed to where Pilfur was laying in the moonlight, a dead rat pinned beneath his velvety paws. The thief shot her a worried look.

"Are you trying to tell me...that the cat, told you?"

"Uh-huh! Cats know more than most animals Garrett. They really get around." She nodded.

"I see..." Garrett murmured, beginning to worry about her.

"Well, the trick is getting them to spill their secrets. They can be a bit...exclusive. You have to earn their trust. But then again, that's true with any animal. In fact-" The thief cut her short by positioning his index finger over her full lips.

"Breath Gwenevere. Just for a moment." When he was sure that she wouldn't try to speak again, he continued. "So, you can talk to animals too?"

"Of course! All nymphs can do that!"

"And Pilfur told you about this?"

"Yes."

"Gwenevere. Pilfur never leaves the clock tower. Even if I-" He stopped himself, not wishing to offend her by stating that he did not belive her. "-The point being, how could he possibly know?"

"A little birdy told him. Well, before he ate it, of course!" Gwenevere cocked her head to the side with a giggle. The thief rubbed his temples with a groan.

"Of course..." He looked down at his Gwenevere again. The little nymph's eyes were positively dancing with starlight and a radiant luster of peace. "Gwenevere. What's done is done. Don't trouble yourself over such things."

"But Garrett!" She began. The wily thief leaned into her gaping lips, and consumed her into a deep, comforting kiss. When he pulled back, Garrett gripped both of her tiny hands in his, ivory moonlight illuminating their joined silhouette.

"Everything will be alright. I promise you this."

Gwenevere poked at her last slice of bread. She was still slightly underweight from the hazardous week that she had spent alone, but the morsel was unwanted this evening. Her worries and tension did more than a satisfactory job at filling her yearning stomach with dozens of uncomfortable knots. She watched Garrett devour his dinner, and blatantly pushed her plate towards him.

"Here. You seem pretty hungry tonight." She muttered softly, turning away from him. Garrett swallowed the moistened bite of bread within his mouth and stared at her. The thief's brows lowered slightly in concern.

"Gwenevere? What's going on?" He asked, his concern growing. It was unlike the usually bubbly girl to be so silent, and he knew that she was bound to be starving. The twosome hadn't eaten in days. Basso had sent word via his new magpie that the city watch had become obsessed with finding the infamous thief; more than they ever had for any criminal before. The boxman was sure that it was due to the Thief-Taker General's murder, and he strongly, almost threateningly, advised Garrett to remain within the confines of his tower. Gwenevere had only recently managed to sneak out long enough to procure the two loaves of bread and cheap wine that they were devouring now.

"Nothing!" She defended, her green eyes distraught and unsure. Garrett frowned and pushed his plate to the corner of the makeshift table, which in actuality was nothing more than an old splintered crate.

"You're a terrible liar Gwenevere; you always have been." His lips curled into a warm smile. "Now, I know that something is upsetting you. I need you to trust your teacher." The young woman looked up at him with desperate eyes; her face forlorn and distant. She swallowed hard.

"It's just...I've been doing a lot of thinking lately." She faced her thief, and locked her eyes into his. "About my past. More specifically, about...about my mother..." Garrett winced at the mention of Viktoria. It seemed that every time Gwenevere mentioned her, his right eye burned with agony; and his heart ached with bitter loss.

Bravely, the thief straightened his posture and did his best to take the upcoming conversation in stride. Although it burdened him terribly to be reminded of such graphic unpleasantries, at least he COULD remember. Gwenevere, for the life of her, could not recall even the slightest detail of her past.

Good or bad.

Garrett wasn't sure if such a handicap was a blessing or a curse, but if she truly wanted answers, he wasn't about to deny her information which was rightfully hers.

"What about her?" He asked, nearly regretting the question as the final syllable left his tongue. The little nymph faced him, as pale as death.

"I don't recall much about her. Only that she really loved me. She used to call me by a name that I can no longer speak. The nymph dialect has become all but lost to me." She was very still, looking downward at her crumb-covered plate. "Before I encountered the temple keeper, I had forgotten about my previous life within the wood. Save her. But now..." Gwenevere shakily spoke.

"Are you alright Gwenevere? The thief asked, with growing concern.

"Who am I Garrett?!" She shrieked. "I-I know that Gwenevere isn't my true identity; my true name. But I can't for the life of me pronounce the title SHE gave me..." She stared at him for a second, then swallowed the uncomfortable tightness in her throat.

"The only thing I had left in this world to remember that life by, was a wooden locket that she gave me a week before she died. But..." She shook, her face contorting with a deep and inconsolable loss.

Garrett sat up straight. Ever since the temple keeper had told him of Gwenevere's roots, of her past, of her heritage. Ever since the night he had almost lost her, the thief suspected that this discussion would surface. He had thought at the time, that when it did, he would be prepared for it.

He, was very wrong.

"What happened to it?"

"My fath-" Gwenevere corrected herself, shaking away the last of the devotion she had kept all those years for Simmons. "Lord Simmons, he destroyed it." Garrett looked up, feeling for the trembling creature before him.

"I see..." He pondered this, feeling even more disgust for the prominent figurehead than usual.

"Garrett. If I became a godess...would I become like my real father? Would I..." Tears began to form within their green glass prison. "Have to hurt people?"

Suddenly, Garrett did not want to talk to her anymore. He didn't want to lie to her; but he also had no desire to confirm her greatest of fears. That the blood of a demonic forest god ran though her veins. That such things as blood sacrifices and causing non-belivers harm and death, was mandatory.

"I thought you said before that you didn't want to be a goddess Gwenevere?" He countered.

"I don't!" She screamed, startling him. "Why do you think I shattered the Woodsie Emerald?! Why do you think I turned my back on the pagans; on the forest?! But even so..." She collapsed into a defeated heap, looking as though she was about to break apart.

"Gwenevere?" Garrett began, worriedly. Gwenevere refused to speak to him, now faced with the horrible truth about what her future inevitably held for her.

What the Last Mother ritual would do to her.

She loved Garrett. He was her teacher. Her first and only love. Her savior. She would never forget all that he had done for her; the blood that he had shed to preserve her very life. But as she sat there on the cold floor, Gwenevere determined that she was no longer worthy of such a gift. Through eyes glassy and wide, she glanced up at her concerned mentor.

She wondered what was going through his head. Was he thinking the same thing?

However, her assumptions couldn't have been further from the truth.

Before she realized what was happening, the thief leaned in and kissed her lightly, as the tears continued to fall from her green eyes.

"Gwenevere..." His hand met hers. "I'm...sorry." Gwenevere's eyes lit up with surprise.

"For what, Garrett?!" She was absolutely speechless. What could he possibly be apologizing for?! SHE was the reason why the watch now sought him out for a murder that he hadn't committed. SHE was the abomination with the mother whom had blinded him.

Before she could protest, the thief continued.

"For everything you've gone through. Everything you've lost. You never wanted any of this; and yet here you are. Life makes unfair demands of us all Gwenevere; but sometimes..." He crooked his head up and stared into the empty hollowness of the vaulted ceiling. "Sometimes life can be an absolute bitch. Sometimes, she thinks it hilarious to give us more than we can possibly handle. Such is the case with you Gwenevere..." Garrett replied sorrowfully.

"Garrett, please don't fret over me. My life is my own, as is my burden. I don't want you to think about it, I-"

"-And what if I choose to? What do you intend to do about it?" Garrett interrupted slyly, his eyes twinkling in the candlelight. With that, he drew her into a long, heated kiss, sliding his tongue into Gwenevere's mouth. Gwenevere returned the kiss, more deeply, a searing need behind her lips. When their lips parted, the thief stood, bringing her up with him, his body afire with Gwenevere's presence. She gasped as he lifted her off her feet.

Garrett set her gently upon the window ledge, leaning her slightly outwards. Gwenevere gasped, her eyes flooding with deep terror.

"G-Garrett! What are you doing?!" She protested through the wind and icy rain. The thief's eyes were laced with meaningful intent, and genuine promise. He leaned down towards her face, the nymph interlocked within his passionate grasp.

"Do you trust me, Gwenevere?" His hot breath igniting against her ear. Gwenevere began to relax as she felt his body looming above hers; his powerful arms holding onto her as if for dear life.

"Yes." She whispered. "Yes Garrett, I trust you." Upon hearing her statement, the thief picked her up again, her long hair glinting with sparkles of rain and moonlight.

"Good." He mouthed her again. "I want you to know that I will never forsake you, nor will I turn on you Gwenevere. I..." He squeezed his eyes shut. A confession of love was still beyond him. Instead, he kissed her again.

Their tongues intertwined for a few wonderful moments, until the thief pulled away, leaving his protégé breathless. Leaving her atop the bed this time, Garrett threw off his cloak, and worked on undoing the many straps on his leather outfit. Gwenevere began to unlace the dark navy ribbons of her corset, watching as it crumpled to the ground. She gasped as Garrett returned to her, the hotness of his skin setting her own ablaze, and their lips reunited once more.

_I'll always trust you, Garrett. And I'll always love you; no matter what they end up doing to me..._

Gwenevere smirked slightly as she traced her slender fingers around Garrett's defined abdomen. The thief heard her soft giggles and decided to inquire.

"I'm not that out of shape, am I?" He mused.

"No! Far from it." She shrieked, not catching the hint of sarcasm in his voice. Garrett just chuckled at her naivety, soothing any and all of her worries into a comforting zest. "Garrett?"

"Yes Gwenevere?"

"I've been meaning to ask you...how have I been doing, in this regard?"

"What regard would that be?"

"You know...learning to love you? Am I getting good at it?" She asked. Garrett looked down at where the young woman was reclining upon his chest and blinked, taken aback by this question. Did she think...

"This isn't something I'm testing you on Gwenevere. This isn't about that." He explained.

"I know. I just wanted to make sure that you liked it." She replied, her voice sultry, yet still very coy. Garrett scoffed.

"Belive me Gwenevere; you have absolutely nothing to worry about in that regard..." Gwenevere smiled, laying her head against his sweaty chest, feeling as it rose and fell. Listening to his rapidly pulsing heart.

"Garrett?"

"Yeah?" He asked, closing his eyes.

"Who taught you how to do this?" The question caused the thief's eyes to fly open, and he instantly sat up.

"Why are you asking this?"

"I was just curious, because you taught me." She smiled. "I wanna know who taught you." Garrett looked up into the empty rafters. It had been a very long time since he had reflected that far back on his life, and the woman who had taken his virginity was so obscured within his memory now, that the thief had almost forgotten her name.

"Her name was Clarissa. We apprenticed under the Keepers together."

"Did you love her?"

"Only physically. I was very young, and I didn't think much about such things back then. To be quite honest, I've rarely given love any thought." He continued to stare into the rafters, lost in thought.

"Have you ever been in love?"

"Yes."

"With who?" Garrett smiled knowingly as he looked down into her innocent face, his hawk eyes absorbing the lost luster of the distant meadows within.

The Pagan Forest, was a part of her still. Even if she chose to abandon it; it lived within her. This caused the thief to begin to ponder if more than just her forest would be lost, should she revoke her god-like power for him.

This new train of thought, made him feel very uneasy.


	39. Chapter 40

On the outskirts of the city, down by the filth-ridden quay, a young mother clung desperately to her sickly daughter. Her other youth, was not nearly as ill, if only by sheer luck. She stood over her mother and sister, watching through frantic blue eyes as life slowly depleted from her beloved sibling. She knew better by this point to ask if Cynthia was going to be alright; she knew that none of them were.

"Pardon my intrusion miss, but I do belive that I might be of some assistance." A voice called out from three yards away. The destitute woman shot up, her dying child still listless within the confines of her lap. With a look of great terror written in her brown, doe-like eyes she extended her hand to her older child.

"Marcy, come here." With a decisive nod that caused her dirty brown pigtails to bounce, the girl stood protectively between what remained of her broken family, and this stranger. "Marcy!" The mother protested to this, her wail caused the child in her lap to stir and moan ever so marginally. Marcy's eyes narrowed fearlessly in the direction of this new threat. She was determined to protect her kin; even though deep down she knew that she indeed had no means of doing so. The man walked closer. He was clothed in a light tan jerkin and dark brown slacks. Heavy boots encrusted with mud and soil made squashing sounds with every step her took upon the rainy dirt road, and he had a thin dark bronze hood up over his head, tapering down his well-muscled shoulder. Marcy squinted her eyes to get a better look at the odd symbol he had embroidered in gold into the neck of his jerkin. It was a diamond shape, with two lines extending from the middle, crossing over one another.

It was not a symbol that the child had ever seen before.

"You are indeed a brave lass. That's good. This city needs bravery right now." The man chuckled. His voice seemed welcoming, and offered a comfort that was now all but gone from Marcy's life.

"W-what do you want from us?!" The mother summoned her courage and spoke. She was so weak now; she hadn't eaten in weeks. The woman doubted that she could even bring herself to stand, let alone fight this intruder off. But she had to try.

"Peace, dear lady. I come bringing tidings of hope and new beginnings." The man removed his hood, and scraggly brown hair bounced free of its confines. His eyes were a green with tints of rusty-brown. A genuine smile bloomed across his youthful face. "Allow me to properly introduce myself. I am Dawson, son of Jeremiah Landon. Founder of the Growers." The mother nearly stood at his statement.

"The heretics..." She shivered, clutching her daughter ever tighter.

"Yes, that is how our order is known to most; a bitter nickname given to us by our enemies. I assure you miss, these rumors are nothing but. There is not even the smallest shred of truth to them."

"So, you're staying that you AREN'T branched off from those evil Pagans then?" She sneered. Dawson remained strangely calm at her harsh words.

"The Pagans were the ones to fuel these rumors you speak of. While it is true that my ancestors used to be a part of their sect, this was a mistake. Nature and technology CAN coexist. Quite well, actually."

"I'm not interested in your disgusting ways, OR your bizarre cult!" She coughed up some blood as she ranted. Noticing this, Dawson, extended a hand to her. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

"Pardon the intrusion miss, but you appear deathly ill. As does your child." The mother's eyes began to gyrate in rage.

"How dare you! Of course we are; we're dying! What's it to you?!" She exclaimed, forgetting temporarily that she had vowed not to mention death in the presence of her children. Instantly, she cupped her dirty hand up over her mouth and began to sob. "Oh Marcy...Cynthia...I'm so sorry..." She wept.

Dawson reached into the folds of his fur-lined pouch and procured a small wooden flask. He bent forward and uncorked the lid. Whilst the mother was still distracted, he poured the smallest drop past Cynthia's cracked lips.

"Hey! What are you doing to my sister!?" Marcy squawked, grabbing her mother's attention. Pushing him away, she held up her daughter's head as Cynthia began to cough.

"You fiend! What the hell did you just taffing do to my baby?!" Dawson watched his reflection shimmer within the cyan irises of the child as they opened for the first time in days.

"M-mother?" Cynthia asked, her voice almost completely inaudible from a mixture of sickness and dehydration.

"Cynthia!" The relieved woman burst into more tears as she gripped the weak young girl to her breasts. Dawson watched the heartwarming scene unfold with a smile. However, he knew that if these good people stood any chance of making a full recovery, they would need more of the aid only his faction could offer.

"Thank you, good stranger. I am sorry I misjudged you. You've brought back my baby from death's door. I am forever in your debt."

"Unfortunately miss, neither she nor your other daughter are anywhere close to being saved. Time is short, and the illness your family suffers is undoubtably spreading."

"W-what should we do?" The mother demanded, dire need controting across her face.

"Come with me. Join my order. That medicine I gave your daughter, the life juice that restored her from a horrible fate; it is just one example of what I spoke of. How nature and technology can fluidly co-exist. If you and your children want to not only live, but to fully enjoy the life that has been gifted to you, then come with me."

"I-I shall." She nodded. Dawson stepped forward and helped the bony woman to her feet. Leaning on him for support while he carried Cynthia in his arms, the forgotten family was led out of the quay.

Into their bright future.

Garrett sat at his table again, mulling over the documents he had swiped a while back from Orion during Gwenevere's last out of the tower training session. Most were little more than scribbled notes, impossible to understand. But one lengthy report did catch his interest.

"Huh." He scoffed.

"Huh what?" Gwenevere leaned over him, taking a look at the yellowed parchment.

"Apparently Heleana now owns a quarter of all the barons factories. I guess a back-biting bitch can really find a niche for herself in this city."

"Garrett. About her. I'm sorry for not listening to you. I'm sorry that I thought she was nice." The thief cast his eyes up to her and shook his head.

"You didn't know any better. Hell, even I thought that she was trustworthy at one point. Heleana is very manipulative."

"What did she do to you Garrett?" The thief glowered at her.

"She sold me out. Thought I already explained that."

"You did. I just always assumed there was more to it than that." Gwenevere inquired.

"Not really. I found what I thought was a new fence. She told the guards about me. The end."

"Oh." Gwenevere side stepped towards the window, taking a moment to look down to the world below. "Hey! It looks like there's something happening down there." She called.

"Gwenevere, there's always something happening down there. It's a city." Garrett growled under his breath.

"Yes, but I don't recall anyone ever setting the city on fire before."

The thief sprung from his chair, knocking over the crate in the process. Placing his hands upon the window ledge, he leered downwards. Hues of orange and red registered within the reflection of his false optic, while his left eye widened in disbelief. Gwenevere was indeed correct.

The city was ablaze.

The thief reeled in horror at the sight of the ravenous flames eating away at the homes that stood dangerously close to the clock tower.

"Gwenevere. Grab the cat. We need to get out of here. Now!" The young woman did not argue. Taking up Pilfur within her loving arms, she tailed her mentor as he made escape preparations. Garrett halted before a large iron chest, and threw it open with a grunt. Inside were extra arrows and small boxes of processed food. Gwenevere slowly approached, and plucked a single, light blue petal from the storage.

"What's this?" Garrett whirled around and yanked the cyan flora from her fingertips.

"Nothing! Don't touch that!" He ordered. Gwenevere stared at him, positively speechless. He hadn't yelled at her like that since the beginning of her training. She watched with empty eyes as he crumbled up the dried petal within his hand, letting the dusty remains sprinkle down to the floorboards. With the slightest of tremors, the thief stuffed the last of his supplies away within his knapsack. He stood frozen for a moment, eyes transfixed on the tiny blue flecks at his feet.

"Garrett. Are you alright?" She offered, growing visibly more concerned.

"Gwenevere. Forgive me. I didn't mean to yell at you." He apologized with a deep sigh. "I'm just...worried about what's going on down there." The young woman played along, although in reality she didn't buy a word of it.

She knew that whatever had caused that sudden outburst had nothing to do with what was going on in the city.

Garrett had never cared about that place.

"It's ok! Anyway, don't worry! If anyone tries to arrest you I'll stop em'!" She giggled. Garrett looked at her with a slightly disturbed smirk.

"Just...try to remember what I told you about killing."

"Only if they richly deserve it. Gotcha!" She winked.

Garrett looked up at the ceiling. His entire world had been plunged into insanity since meeting Gwenevere. This seemingly innocent girl was becoming more like an insidious curse with every passing day; and yet, Garrett could not bring himself to belive this. He genuinely cared about her, and he refused to belive that any of this was linked to her.

That any of this was her fault. Even if it was, Gwenevere wouldn't have been the wiser, and he knew it.

His rapidly beating heart was now the only thing the thief could feel. He honestly had no idea what leaving his tower would mean. Would it even remain standing upon his return? He felt uneasy, dread slowly building within his stomach.

Somehow, Garrett knew that this feeling, was a premonition of things yet to come.

And these things, involved his Gwenevere.

His eyes gleamed with greed and triumph as he ran his hands over his precious collection, possibly for the last time. But one item in particular caught his attention. It was the small copper ring atop the pedestal. Garrett picked up the object, and lovingly traced the intricate bronze band between his fingers. It wasn't an object of any value, although at the time he had taken it, he hadn't been the wiser.

For this tiny, unassuming ring, had been the very first object the Master Thief had ever stolen.

"Come on Garrett! We need to go!" Gwenevere's pleas urged him forward. Garrett hustled to fill his knapsack with as many remaining treasures as it would hold before turning to exit the clock tower with her.

The metallic blue machines tore through the city, members of Alduos's Graven following in their wake. Heleana took satisfactory pleasure in watching one of her creations smash a member of the city watch against the cobblestone. She smiled at Aldous.

"The trick to catching vermin, is to force them to run out of hiding places. Then, you squash them." The middle-aged man stroked his tangled beard.

"Impressive. So that's what you've been using your new factories to create."

"More or less." She shrugged, flipping a strand of her blonde hair up over her shoulders. She was sweltering within her leather catsuit now, the figure-hugging garment growing even tighter than before. Her accomplice leaned into her, crossing his arms.

"So, how do these 'Metal Beings' of yours work eh?" Heleana didn't miss a beat. She moved in to him, wrapping her ankle around his unsuspecting calf. Aldous gasped as the mechanist pressed her finger to his lips.

"Shhh...it's a secret..." Without waiting for him to reply, she thrust her knee into his unsuspecting the groin. He winced and slumped to his knees in pain. "And I don't appreciate being asked to expose my secrets. After all, I barely know you Aldous." She giggled mischievously as his eyes glazed over.

Turning her attention up towards the majestic clock tower, Heleana's dark red lips curved into a demented grin. Now that her inventions had tracked Garrett down, she would not allow him to escape her clutches with Gwenevere. She, belonged to her.

"There's no where left to run, Last Mother..."


	40. Chapter 41

RAP! RAP! RAP!

Basso rolled over on his filthy mattress with an annoyed groan.

"Eh...go away..." He muttered, waving off the incessant knocking at the door, his eyes still closed.

RAP! RAP! RAP!

Again, the boxman cursed under his breath. Raising his head from the stained pillowcase, he yelled in the direction of the doorway.

"Jeffery, I'm paid up for the week! I left the money with yer wife!" He snorted, still half asleep. But unbeknownst to him, it wasn't the upstairs bartender.

Not even close.

"Basso, cut the crap and let us in."

The boxman's eyes flew open at the sound of Garrett's muffled voice. He sprang to his feet and rushed to open the front door, tripping on a stack of old newspapers and beer bottles in the process. He swung open the door and stared apprehensively up at his mate. The thief wore a look of solemn intent upon his face; he looked like he'd been through hell. Gwenevere was with him, standing beside her teacher like a loyal hound. Basso ground his teeth. Of course she would be.

Garrett never listened to anything he had to say unless there was gold involved.

"Garrett?!" He gawked, desperately fighting to surpass his rage.

He had warned the thief to stay put. The watch had redoubled their efforts to find 'Public Enemy Number One', and the lengths they were going to in order to do so, was becoming downright ridiculous. A part of the aging drunkard wondered why. The reward offered for Garrett; alive OR dead was unreal, at well over 60,000 gold now, and rising. Yet the watch dogs had shown nary an interest in seeking out the thief.

Until now.

Basso glowered down at the petite young woman Garrett kept close to his side. The boxman was more than convinced, that this was her influence.

Simmons must know that Garrett has her...this can't all be about the murder...

He stared up at Garrett, still brimming with concerned ire. He released a pent-up sigh before speaking, concentrating his unavoidable long string of vile profanities down into one solitary syllable. "Shit..."

"Basso, Gwenevere and I need to hunker down in the hovel for a time. You still owe me a favor after all and-"

"Wait, wait wait..." Basso shook his head, motioning his arms out in front of him in disbelief. Once again, he contained his outburst. Inhaling a deep breath, he faced his mate with a look of deep wonderment. "You two want to stay...here?"

"Yes, thought that's what I said."

"Garrett, you can't do that."

"And why the hell not?"

"Listen, mate. I wish I could help ya, I really do! But the watch..."

"Yeah? What about them?" Garrett crossed his arms. Gwenevere looked from her mentor to Basso, watching the conversation unfold and growing progressively more worried by it.

"They've been going door to door, looking for you." He sneered at the young woman, and pointed a dirty finger at Gwenevere. "Looking for her."

"You're kidding right? Those oafs couldn't find a burrick in the middle of Stonemart, even if it was painted bright pink." Garrett replied, slightly amused. He had never known the city watch to be serious, let alone competent about their job.

"Look, I know that I can be quite the funny man, alright? But this time, I ain't jokin'. You need to get back to your tower. Now."

"Basso, I can't do that." The thief remarked sadly.

"And why the hell not?"

"Because..." Garrett winced, turning away.

"Someone has attacked the city, and they were burning down everything, including the clock tower." Gwenevere butted in, still holding Pilfur lovingly within her arms.

Garrett looked down at her and smiled. Gwenevere smiled back. Basso rolled his eyes.

"Well, then you two need to leave town. I can't help you."

"You owe me a favor Basso, and I intend to collect. I only need it until I can figure a way out of the city. Surely that's a fair trade for what I did for you. I did train Gwenevere, just as agreed."

"Yeah, I'll bet you did..." The boxman grumbled under his breath.

"Please Basso?" Gwenevere stepped forward, sensing that Garrett's arrogance wasn't going to see him through this time.

The middle-aged man stared down into her wide, innocent green eyes. They were shimmering in the low candlelight, positively brimming over with fear. With a defeated sigh, Basso threw up his arms.

"Fine! But just until you get your shit in order Garrett. I can't be risking my arse like this..."

"I know. You make me do that for you." The thief growled.

Basso whirled around and leered at his friend. He stormed over and stared the tall thief dead in the eyes. Gwenevere backed away. Seeing this, Basso spoke in a low, serious tone.

"Garrett. I don't know why you'd risk your life like this by coming here, and frankly, I don't care. That's your business if you want to let some rich tart hang off you and get you killed. But I'm not about to let her spell MY execution!" Garrett's eyes blazed with insult.

"Fine. You've made yourself heard." His cloak slapped against the leather outfit as he turned around. "Let's go Gwenevere."

"Garrett wait! Hear me out." The boxman stopped his mate's departure.

The thief looked over his shoulder, mask up over the lower portion of his face.

"Make it quick." He snarled.

"Look...everything's...everything's just been a little crazy lately around here. Folks say they've seen some metal creatures patrolling the streets, the guards are acting like taffin' barbarians...well, more so than usual..."

"And your point?" Garrett reprimanded, still angered from Basso's earlier insult to Gwenevere.

"I guess I just kinda lost it when I saw you and Gwennie. I didn't mean to act like that. I've just been under a load of stress. Sophie told me they barged in on her the other night, and...well, you can imagine how she's taking it..."

Basso sighed and took a seat upon a nearby crate. He watched the thief reluctantly turn to face him, twiddling his thick thumbs. "You and Gwennie can stay here as long as ya like." Without warning, Gwenevere set Pilfur down and ran to embrace the boxman.

"Oh thank you Basso! You're the best!" She squealed with delight. Initially, Basso tensed, but as she pulled back a warm smile found his weathered face.

"Heh-heh...sure kid." He looked back up at Garrett, who surveyed the scene with a bemused grin.

For the first time in the nearly two decades he'd known him, Garrett actually seemed...content.

"Right then. You two can have the storage room." Basso grunted, popping his sore back with his hands. Gwenevere stayed behind while the two men conversed, watching Pilfur explore. The kitten's acute senses didn't take long to register on the flustered magpie resting on its perch overhead. His eyes gleamed a wild, hungry yellow as he surveyed the nervous bird. He crouched, and readied himself for the hunt.

"Oh! And I see that you've gotten a cat." Basso boomed, disrupting Pilfur's otherwise flawless pounce.

"Yup! This is Pilfur! Or, at least that's what Garrett calls him!" Gwenevere grinned with pride. Basso stared down at the feisty kitten with quiet disapproval. "Uh-huh. Well, just make sure you keep him away from Gloria here lass." He instructed, holding out a finger for the magpie. She cawed with disdain and pecked at his chipped fingernail. "Hey! Maybe I SHOULD let him eat ya!" The boxman exclaimed in surprise.

His antics prompted Garrett to join in the conversation.

"Got another one to replace Jenivere so soon?" The thief inquired.

"Just like the real Jenivere, eh?" Basso gave a dirty chuckle.

"Well that's funny Basso; and here I was always under the misapprehension that she left YOU." Garrett chided him.

"Ha-ha, veerrry funny..."

"So what's this one's name?"

"Gloria. After my most recent...drama." The boxman yawned.

"Didn't I meet her?"

"Yeah."

"And wasn't she the one who tried to beat you over the head with a frying pan?"

"Uh...heh-heh...yep. That'd be Gloria." Basso grinned, rubbing his forehead. Garrett smirked.

"Basso, why do you always name your pets after relationships that didn't end well for you?" Basso just shrugged.

"Eh, makes it easier to understand why they try and peck my fingers off." His response prompted a small chuckle from the thief.

"So, what's for dinner?" Gwenevere piped up.

"Aww, I dunno. Whatever I have in the back." Basso winked. Gwenevere made a face.

"You're kidding right?"

"Beggars can't be choosers hun."

"No, but some of them can at least cook!" The young woman retorted.

"Gwenevere!" Garrett barked, surprised at her sudden rudeness. She stared up at him through wide eyes.

"What? I was being serious! I would be more than happy to make dinner!" Both men watched her though wondering eyes.

"You can...cook, Gwenevere?" Garrett finally asked.

"Why sure! I learned during finishing school. I can make all sorts of delicious things! Well, just as long as you have the ingredients I require." She giggled.

"I'm afraid that might be a bit of a problem kid. I only got some sour pickles and stale ale laying around." Basso replied.

"Oh, that's not a problem at all! I'll just go out and get some things and-"

She started to exit the hovel, but the thief's voice called her back.

"Gwenevere no. You can't go out there." She turned around, disappointment written in her drooped posture.

"I suppose you're right..." She frowned. "But I really wanted to cook for you..." Garrett couldn't help but smile at her sweet gesture.

"Trust me Gwenevere; you'll have plenty of time for that."

The warmth of his body was like a hidden Eden to her. Here, within the confines of dark cape and warm muscle, Gwenevere felt hidden from the rest of the bustling and cruel world. She breathed deeply, beginning to imagine that this was now her only life, her only concern. That she and her thief could stay within the confines of this place forever...

The sunrise was an unreal shade of purple, pink and navy blue. These were not the usual colors one would see within the sky of dawn, but rather the brilliant shades an artist might find within his paintbox. Hues too brilliant to be natural.

Garrett watched as Gwenevere's tiny form rose and fell in time to his beating heart. He propped his arms behind his head and began to think about everything that had transpired; and more importantly, what to do about it. It wasn't about survival anymore; it was about keeping Gwenevere safe.

Simmons wanted the girl, and the thief had no doubt that it wasn't due to any parental attachments he felt for her. Garrett had never been one for family ties or connections; the few instances when he had witnessed the aforementioned had only proved how completely overblown the entire notion truly was. He had learned long ago that blood did not automatically constitute affection or loyalty. But seldom was this realization more prominent, than with the way Sir Vladimir Simmons regarded his so-called daughter. Garrett had never met anyone so detached.

Simmons didn't care if Gwenevere was safe or not, this Garrett knew. The lord wanted something from her, most likely her untapped god-like power. And the thief wasn't about to let him have it.

He continued to survey Gwenevere with his throbbing hazel eye. Even if he could never truly give her what she needed, he loved her, and he would lay down his very life to protect her. Gwenevere had become something to him of far more value than any item he had ever taken before. She needed to be looked after; cared for. This precious Pagan treasure was the first woman whom he had genuinely wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

The turmoil and danger surrounding her. The perilous blood coursing through her untamed body. None of that mattered anymore to Garrett.

All that he could concentrate on, all that he could see; was Gwenevere, and his undying love for her.

And he was going to do everything in his power, to keep her for as long as he could.

_ A light bloomed inside her mind, drawing her near. Within moments, Gwenevere found herself standing in the heart the Pagan Wood. She watched as strange men and women dressed in dark brown outfits scurried about, harvesting fruit from the tall trees, and tending to their crops by the bubbling brook. Gwenevere smiled and nodded socially as they wished her good day, her brilliant blue corset and skirt metamorphosing into a radiant white gown. Pale seafoam gloves fit her hands, extending up her lithe arms. Her lavish ruby locks began to twist and billow, until they spiraled down her back in a series of thick and luscious curls. A crown of fair-smelling pastel flowers donned her head. Gwenevere looked herself over, and blushed at her gorgeous new appearance. The people around her all began to smile along with her, curtseying and tipping their hats to her. Then, the young woman's eyes averted to the sunlit center of the forest clearing. Through the brilliant light, she noticed the figure of a man. He reached out to her, and began to speak._

_"My beloved goddess. Come, let us bask in the glory of your kingdom." Gwenevere felt uncertain, almost uncomfortable at his words. _

_"My... kingdom?" She asked. _

_"You are his treasure, and he has claimed you as his own. But I shall not allow history to repeat itself, fair damsel. This time, the god of the Woodsies shall not be taken by that one. I will not allow the last hope of the natural world to be stolen away by that charismatic charlatan!" _

_The sun shone harshly at his words, causing Gwenevere to close her eyes. _

_ When she re-opened them, her heart skipped a beat. This time, in the strangers place, stood her darling Garrett. He was clad in his black leather outfit, standing ten feet from her. He adjusted his cloak and tossing it over his shoulder, he started towards her. When Garrett reached Gwenevere, he gently yet tightly grasped her gloved hands. Fire and ice collided into lightning and luster as their eyes met, and Gwenevere's body softened as Garrett's lips began to shape her name. _

_"Gwenevere. My loyal student. My most cherished gemstone. My beautiful Gwenevere." He smiled. Gwenevere's eyes glistened as her face flushed. __The thief reached out, toying with one of her bouncy curls. __"We shall stay here this moment; forever." _

_"But what of our own moment? Of our lives?"_

_"Dear Gwenevere; you should not worry so. As long as we continue to dwell within this moment, time will cease to exist." He cupped her cheek and pulled her face into his. _

_ Gwenevere began to tremble as he kissed her. Something didn't feel right. She never recalled Garrett talking to her like that before. He seemed...off. Even his voice was different. Slowly, his hand receded from her velvety cheek. Taking his index finger and thumb, he tipped her chin upwards to meet his. As she beheld the face beyond the confines of the hood, Gwenevere felt the world freeze around her. _

_ This man; was not her Garrett._

Gwenevere awoke to large, warm hands sliding up and down her waist. She looked over her shoulder to see Garrett, a devious grin spread out across his face. She met his gaze with a tired grin.

"Good morning..." Gwenevere greeted quietly. The thief placed his left arm firmly around her, propping himself up against her nude body.

"It is now." He stared down at her, meeting her gaze. The lovers remained transfixed upon one another's faces, never moving, never feeling their breath as it left their bodies. Abruptly, he withdrew, and assumed control of her. He held both of her wrists down and pushed her into the bed. Gwenevere was delighted by this, especially when he began nibbling at her earlobe, blowing hot air into it between her moans and squeals.

"Caught you." He growled dirtily. With that, Garrett drew Gwenevere into a long, heated kiss, sliding his tongue into her mouth. Their lips remained locked as the thief began to grind his pelvis against his lover's, and Gwenevere began to softly moan. Garrett broke the kiss, and moved down to her neck, tenderly licking and kissing her flesh. Slowly, the thief moved down to her chest, feeling Gwenevere's heart pound against his own. The red-haired nymph shuddered as she sunk herself into the bed, allowing her thief to consume her supple fruit.

"Hey Garrett! Can you-" Basso burst through the door.

The thief whirled around with a gasp and Gwenevere shrieked and hustled to pull the thin sheets up around her nudity. The boxman flushed a brilliant red. "Oh! Heh-heh...I guess you're already pretty busy. Um, I'll just...come back later..." He abruptly slammed the door.

Garrett looked away, and stood from the bed. He opened the window to the small room and inhaled a comforting breath of chilly, early February air.

"This is NOT going to work for very long. I really need to come up with a more permanent living arrangement." He huffed, his back still turned. The young woman watched his frantic actions, feeling extremely embarrassed herself.

"I'm sure you'll think of something." Gwenevere offered. "In the meantime, I think we should have breakfast now. I'm famished." She pulled her corset out from under the bed, where it had ended up following last nights passionate rendezvous. She slipped the corset up over her head, and made a face when she noticed the stains that it had accumulated over the last couple of weeks.

"I hope you like pickles then. Other than ale, that seems to be about the only foodstuff that Basso keeps in plentiful supply." Garrett replied, still looking out the window.

"No, I don't like pickles very much..." Gwenevere shot him a bemused grin and finished pulling up her skirt.

"Neither do I." The thief closed his eyes and released an annoyed sigh.


	41. Chapter 42

Dawson awoke to the serene cooing of mourning doves as the sun began to break over the horizon. Rubbing his eyes, he flung the covers away from his bed of straw, and stood with a stretch.

"Good, you've awoken." The voice of his second was a welcome chorus to his rested ears. Aniah was watching him, her arms crossed firmly across her full chest. "You're breakfast was getting cold."

"I've told you before not to trouble yourself with that." Dawson yawned.

"Tis' no trouble at all! You are our leader. What sort of second would I be, if I did not try and honor your role within our clan?" Aniah replied with a smirk.

"Forget it. You're not ready to conduct the harvest ritual." The youthful leader proclaimed, knowing full well what his assistant had been after with all of her blatant flattery.

"Fine. I'll just give your cold breakfast to the hounds then." She objected.

"Go right ahead." Dawson shook his head, watching her storm away from the barn and down the opposite side of the hill.

That girl, was absolutely insatiable.

Dawson marveled at the soft yellow butterflies drifting along the chilly breeze as he stepped out of his dwelling. The presence of the small insects marked the end of Winter, and the start of an early Spring. He could indeed begin preparations for the harvest ritual. Just as soon as the last of the Winter crop had been reaped.

Gwenevere emerged from the forest and out into the sunlight. She held her navy cloak firmly around her shoulders as the wind ravaged her soft white skin. Nevertheless, she remained vigilant to find some suitable vegetation to take back to the hovel with her. Garrett had forbade her from entering the city, but he hadn't said anything about searching the forest. Which was exactly what she had been doing for the last half hour. A nagging tug at the back of her mind told her that the thief undoubtably had realized that she was gone by now, and that she was in for quite the lecture upon her return.

But Gwenevere couldn't have cared less. She had ingredients to collect and recipes to make.

Her green eyes scanned the area before her. This forest clearing was larger than the others, lacking even in bushes and rocks. Instead, were several lovingly tilled mounds of earth, fenced off by a light iron fence. The young woman stepped closer upon noticing a family of rabbits huddled around one such mound. That's when she observed that each of these soil rows held plant life. Gwenevere's heart skipped with delight. Finding the ingredients she sought had just gotten a little easier.

"I could have sworn that I closed that last night..." Dawson murmured, pushing his way through the partially opened flimsy metal gate. Upon entering the Growers field, a rather unexpected surprise was waiting for him

A red-haired woman was squatting before a row of strawberry bushes, several eaten stems lay sprawled around her feet. Her light blue outfit was still damp with early morning dew, and her body shivered in the breeze.

"Hey you!" He shouted, causing the young woman to jolt upright. Gwenevere faced him, strawberry juice still covering her lips. Rather than fleeing, she cowered as he approached her, giving Dawson a chance to look her over.

She looked to be about his age, perhaps maybe a year or two younger. Her bangs were messy and long, trailing outwards into a sea of ruby and crimson waves. And even in its unkempt state, Dawson had to admit; it was beautiful.

But her most striking feature by far, were those yellow and green eyes.

Knowing that there had to be a reason as to why this girl would be stealing from the community garden, Dawson opted not to yell at her further. He could see that she was already terrified of him.

"Hey, it's alright. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm Dawson, and you are?" He lowered his posture and knelt down upon the muddy earth, gently and quietly waiting for his new guest to reply. Gwenevere slowly opened her mouth.

"Uh...G-Gwenevere..."

"It's a pleasure to meet you Gwenevere. You must be starving. I've never seen anyone just eat directly out of the garden like that. We usually wash and prepare our harvest first." He smiled. Gwenevere's pupils retracted. Simultaneously, she dropped the strawberries she had hoarded away in her basket. They rolled down the incline to the young man's feet.

"I'm sorry! I didn't know that these plants belonged to you; I thought that they were part of the forest!" She pleaded. Dawson cocked his head.

"It's alright. I'm actually more concerned as to why you came here." He began picking up the fruit at his feet. "Are you in some kind of trouble?"

"N-no sir! I was just trying to find some food for-" Gwenevere stopped herself. She knew better than to speak openly about her thief.

"Shhh..." Dawson comforted, standing. He walked over to the petrified intruder and offered a hand to help her to her feet. "No need to explain. The Growers welcome all."

"The...Growers?" Gwenevere asked, standing on her own.

"Yes." Dawson said, motioning to the carefully tended field of fruits and vegetables all around him. "We work together with nature, and with the forest herself to better the future of the city. There is no reason to keep the two apart, and the members of my group are doing everything in their power to help the people to understand this."

"It sounds like you have quite the task laid out for you then. I'm sorry if I made it harder by trespassing..." Gwenevere apologized.

"No need to apologize. You are most welcome here Gwenevere. Come on, let's get a real meal inside your belly, and then you can tell me all about yourself." Gwenevere smiled, a bit surprised at this young man's hospitality.

"I'd really love to, but I must be getting back to the city." She protested.

"You still have a family back there?" Gwenevere closed her eyes. A warm smile danced across her face, sunlight bathing her delicate facial features in a soft orange hue.

"Yes. They're my family."

"Well then." Dawson approached her, his form blotting out the newly risen sun and casting a shadow down upon her. He was looking down at her, a warm look dazzling in his own green eyes. "You should gather up as much as you can so that they have enough to eat." Gwenevere gripped the handle of her basket tighter and smiled up at him.

"Thank you, Dawson." She spoke softly as he began to pile various foodstuffs within her wicker basket.

"It's no trouble m'lady. Just be sure to remember the Growers when you're enjoying these bountiful gifts." To her surprise, the young man bent down and held out his extended hand, passing her one last ripe juicy apple. "And if at all possible; myself."

"I-I shall. Farewell!" Gwenevere nearly tripped over a pile of dirt as she scampered off back into the surrounding wood. Dawson watched her go,and his eyes lit up with both desire and happiness.

"Farewell, sweet Gwenevere."

By the time a wet and muddy Gwenevere had returned to the Crippled Burrick, Garrett was beside himself. He glowered down at her dirty hair and soaked clothes.

"Gwenevere! I thought I told you not to leave! Where the taff did you go?!"

"I went to get some ingredients from the forest so that I could cook for you." She explained sheepishly, holding up her filled basket. The thief's brow furrowed. He had never been so enraged at her before.

Carrots, apples? No, these were not from the forest, and Gwenevere knew it.

_Does she not understand how much she means to me?! _

He clasped her wrists tightly, causing Gwenevere to drop her produce. As fruit and vegetables scattered to the floor, Garrett stared into her with furious eyes that mirrored his darkest fears.

"Do you think I'm stupid Gwenevere? Tell me the truth! Where did you go?!" He demanded. Gwenevere watched his eyes dance. They trembled, full of deep fear and emotion. She hesitated, before leaning in to kiss his hot cheek. The thief looked at her as she withdrew, surprised by the sudden sign of her affection.

"I told you. The forest. If you're this upset, I promise that I won't go back there anymore. Please calm down Garrett." Her casual words only caused his anger to mount.

"Calm down?! The city watch wants my head on a silver platter, Simmons wants you back within his clutches, and you're telling me to calm down?! That's easy for you to say Gwenevere; you knew the entire time that you were safe! Your words are as selfish as your actions!"

"I-I know it was wrong of me to worry you, but I just couldn't help myself. I really wanted to cook for you and Basso today!" She whimpered. "And I'm not lying! I DID go into the forest! There was a...garden there. A nice man gave these things to me and-"

"-wait...just a minute. Someone, SAW you?!" The look in his eyes at that moment caused Gwenevere to recoil. She tried to pull her wrists free of his grasp, but Garrett only tightened his grip around them. Seeing that she could not flee, Gwenevere instead turned away from him.

"Garrett...It was ok. He was nice..."

"You'll never learn, will you?" The thief exhaled a long sigh, trying desperately to curb his mounting rage. "How many times do I have to say it? Down here Gwenevere, I am the only one you can trust."

"That can't be true! Not everyone is out to get me Garrett!" She argued.

"I envy you kid. You're innocence allows you to belive that people are inherently good. You're blessed; for now." He retracted his hands, and stared out the open window. "But eventually, that sort of thinking; that sort of trust. It's gonna get you killed." She watched him as he spoke, ashamed that she had both worried and disappointed him so.

"Garrett. I know that I still have a lot to learn about life from you. I know." She walked over to his side, and cautiously continued to address him.

"You won't learn anything if you refuse to be taught." He huffed. "I used to tell Erin the same thing. She never listened to me either." He rubbed his aching temples.

"I'm truly sorry. I just wanted to do something nice for you. I thought that I'd be safe." Gwenevere added. "Did I...did I let you down?" She asked, afraid of the answer. Garrett didn't speak to her.

"Perhaps it was my fault." He finally spoke, his eyes still locked into the void of the dark alley before him.

"What do you mean?"

"I've never been the teacher type. I've always been firmly set in my ways. Maybe, that's why the two of you never respected my influence." Gwenevere began to tremble at his statement. The thief finally looked down at her.

"But I DO respect you Garrett! I thought you knew that?!" She retorted, unhappy with his assumption.

"Maybe so. But you do not respect my teachings. And I have come to the realization that you're not about to change. You're more stubborn than I am." He glanced down at her. She looked so a defeated groan, Garrett extended his hand and cupped his large palm around her shoulder. She stared up at him through wide, unsuspecting celadon eyes. He smiled warmly at her. "But I'm not about to give up on you, Gwenevere."

"But I thought you just said-" She smiled, happy that Garrett's temper had mellowed. Rather worridly, she crouched down and began to put the food back in her discarded basket. "So, you're not going to hate me for this?" The thief reached over and placed his other hand on her opposite shoulder. He leaned forward and kissed her forehead.

"I could never hate you." His tone was solemn and comforting. "Just try to stay either by my side at all times, or if you can't do that, at least away from everyone else."

"Will do."

_ THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP! _

The sudden pounding caused Gwenevere to yelp. Instinctively, she gripped ahold of Garrett and buried her face into his chest. Pushing her away, Garrett raced over to a pile of moldy crates. Most of them were full of rubbish and dust, but some of them were empty. The thief pointed deliberately to one such crate, an unspeakable concern written across his face.

"Get in!" He snarled. Gwenevere nodded and did what she was told. Once inside, he leaned forwards, giving her a glower of dire sincerity.

"Garrett?"

"Gwenevere. No matter what happens, DO NOT come out of that crate until I come back for you."

"W-wait! Where are you going?" She watched as Garrett closed the heavy lid up over her.

"To check on Basso." Was all he answered her with, taking up his dagger. Gwenevere curled up into a fetal position, feeling like her heart was melting into her stomach.

Reconciliation would have to wait.

There was someone unexpected braying on the door.


	42. Chapter 43

Slowly he crept out of the storage room, taking care to catch the edge of the door as it closed. Garrett looked around anxiously for Basso, but the boxman was nowhere within the small dwelling.

THUMPTHUMPTHUMP!

The braying continued, causing the nimble thief to whirl around to face the door. Slipping into the shadows of the left side of the hovel, Garrett edged his way over towards the entryway. There, he quietly waited. If this unknown stranger was a member of the watch, they would either announce themselves as so, or attempt to break down the door. Minutes slipped by painfully slow as the knocking continued. Each thump against the wood drove another needle of anxiety through Garrett's chest, and sweat began to gather in tiny beads upon his brow.

After about five minutes of this, the thief was convinced that whoever this person was, it wasn't the city watch. Ducking off into the corner, he crouched and crawled to the open window. He reached into his knapsack and withdrew a small, spherical device from within. With a twist and a pop, Garrett attached the transmitter on the device to the small indented receiver of his right eye and discreetly placed it upon the window ledge.

Instantly, the scouting orb began to transmit a signal to him. Through the grainy white imagery, he could make out a hooded figure. Who this person was, he had no guess. But one thing was certain. They had no business here. Basso wasn't even home at the moment, the lights within the hovel dimmed. Garrett disconnected the orb upon noticing that this intruder held something large just beneath the edges of their cloak. Garrett retrieved the scouting orb and after replacing it back into his pack, he resumed his position just behind the front door. As the knocking resumed for what seemed like the hundredth time, Garrett prepared himself. He could give them one chance to make their business with Basso known. One chance. His long fingers twitched in anticipation, and he went for and produced his dagger. Gritting his teeth and gulping down a mixture of dread and befuddlement, he secured the doorknob beneath his hand.

The lock clicked, and with an eerie creak, the door swung open, exposing the darkness of the deplorable dwelling. The unknown visitor, reluctantly started inside.

THUNK!

A female's shriek filled the room as unseen hands forcefully pressed her into the door, slamming it shut again. She gasped and quivered as the tip of a sharp silver dagger found her throat. Her blue eyes tremored in terror, and she dropped what she was carrying to the cold dirt floor.

"What business do you have beating on that door?" Garrett's smoky voice snarled through the empty blackness. The woman's body relaxed at the sound of his voice.

"Garrett? What in bloody burricks are you doing here?!" The thief instinctively recoiled and sheathed his blade at the sound of Sophie's gentle yet strong voice.

"Sophie?"

"Yes, Garrett." She snapped, taking the hood from her rich brunette hair. She shot him an infuriated glare. The boxman's sister stared at him for a moment, before reaching down to retrieve whatever she had dropped during the thief's ambush. Garrett felt a wave of deep embarrassment wash over him when he realized what it indeed was. A carefully folded pile of laundry.

"Sophie...I apologize. I thought that you were-"

"-someone else. Yeah, I kinda got that when you almost pierced my neck with that damned knife." She huffed, glaring discerningly over the linens lining the ground. "Taff it all, Garrett. Do you know how long it took me to get those stains out?!"

"I-"

"What are you so worked up about anyway?! Obviously you don't give a rats arse about the new allegations against you, or you'd have left the city by now."

"I'm trying to."

"By involving my brother? What do you expect Basso to do for you in that regard? The lout can't even do his own laundry!" Sophie continued her tirade. "And now, thanks to your dramatic little intervention, I'm gonna have to do it all over again!" Garrett opened his mouth again to apologize further, but a soft green light caught the corner of his eye, cutting him off.

Gwenevere stood in the doorway of the storage room, her hand aglow with nature magic. At first, the thief was worried that he would have to explain, and rather quickly, that Sophie was not a threat. He knew how quick to kill his apprentice was; especially when she perceived him to be in any peril. No doubt she had heard the arguing and come out of her hiding place prematurely.

But Gwenevere's words couldn't have surprised him more.

"Maybe I can help..." She offered in a shy yet sincere tone. Sophie looked in the direction of the nymph, her irises contacting in unspoken awe at the sight of the raw green mana flowing over her tiny hands like leafy vines.

"...That's her, isn't it?" She spoke to Garrett, eyes still transfixed upon Gwenevere. "That's...Gwenevere..."

"Yes. That's her." Garrett approached her side, trying to get a gauge for how Sophie was reacting to all of this. She didn't seem to be afraid; she looked more surprised than anything. Gwenevere waited for the woman before her to speak, and when she did not, the young woman repeated her offer.

"I could help you rewash Basso's laundry, if you want miss." This time, Sophie managed a small, very weak smile.

"That's not necessary sweetie. I'm sure my brother wouldn't mind a little loose dirt and dust anyway." She took a nervous step towards the petite ruby-haired maiden. With utmost sincerity and warmth, she extended her hand to her. "My name is Sophie. It's very nice to finally meet you, Gwenevere." Gwenevere reached up with the hand that wasn't currently weaving a magical light and clasped Sophie's palm.

"Nice to meet you too!" She withdrew, and offered a curtsey. Sophie chuckled merrily at this. Looking back over her shoulder, she winked and whispered to Garrett.

"She's precious!"

The thief, couldn't have agreed more.

Suddenly, the front door burst open again, startling everyone inside. It was Basso, looking positively enraged. He stormed past Garrett and Sophie, barely noticing either of them. Slamming his fists against his desk and scuttling some papers to the floor below, he reached up and lit the lantern just above. Gloria cawed with protest, unhappy about being woken from her rainy afternoon's nap.

"Filthy Taffer...I should have known he'd cheat..." The boxman cursed. He plopped down in his feeble wooden chair with a groan, and opened the lower right drawer to reveal a half-drunk bottle of brandy.

"It's great to see you too brother." Sophie cleared her throat. Basso looked up, seemingly still lost in thought.

"Huh? Oh, hi Sophie. Is it laundry day again already?" He asked, barely acknowledging her as he shakily poured himself a glass. Sophie frowned.

"You know, that brandy is going to be the death of you!" She reprimanded.

"Well what'd ya expect? It has a woman's name after all..." He chuckled sourly.

"Couldn't you at least have told Garrett that I was coming over this afternoon?"

"Nope, I wasn't here." The younger sibling threw the last of the linens back into the wicker basket and crossed her arms.

"You're unbelievable!"


	43. Chapter 44

Gwenevere scrunched up her face, her tongue protruding slightly from her mouth as it often did when she was lost in concentration. Around her lay the various ingredients she had been gifted from Dawson and the Growers, along with the limited resources Sophie had found in her pantry. She was with the boxman's sister now, as she had offered to allow Gwenevere to use her kitchen when making her special dinner. Sophie watched as the tiny girl before her worked so hard to get every little detail perfect.

"My, that looks so tedious! Mind telling me what you plan on making?" She asked lightheartedly. Gwenevere looked over her shoulder and smiled.

"Fillets of beef a la Rossine, Potato Croquettes, and for dessert, Apple cake!" She replied, turning back to her creations. Sophie's smile melted slightly in disbelief before expanding even wider than before in surprise.

"That's so fancy! Fillets of beef a la Rossa-what now?"

"Rossine. It's one of the dishes they taught me how to prepare back at the manor."

"So I see." Sophie chuckled. "Gwenevere?"

"Yes?"

"I know you need to concentrate, but I find myself just so curious. Would it be too much of a bother if I chatted with you while you cooked?" Her question prompted the young woman to turn around to face her. The look on Gwenevere's face was one marked by both hope and utter disbelief.

"You...you want to talk with me? But I used to be a noble, surely you know this." She looked down at her feet. "Basso said that everybody knew, and you're his sister."

"Yes, I know about your past. But why would that dissuade me from speaking with you?" Sophie asked, craning her head ever so slightly. Gwenevere looked up sharply, her eyes shimmering with a pleasant glee.

"Really?! But the others...the others who know I mean...They aren't very nice to me." She started to look down again, but was halted as Sophie's left hand found and graced her saddened cheek. She drew Gwenevere up, and looked into her sorrowful puppy-dog eyes of wild green and yellow.

But what she saw in them, both shocked and worried her. These eyes were both of a frightened and confused little girl and the unseen demon goddess within.

Gwenevere blinked. And when she reopened her eyes, the synonymous forms were even more prominent than before. Sophie couldn't quite see either of them clearly, let alone separately. It was like looking into two separate dimensions. She just stood there, holding the nymph's flustered face in her hands, the sentiment which she had begun to offer now long forgotten.

Gwenevere's words cut like the claymore of a welcome savior through the dense haze and torment that now enshrouded her host.

"Sophie? What is it?" For a second, the older woman's pupils dilated, before she was able to regain her composure. She managed a weak smile and bravely cast her eyes down towards Gwenevere again.

"I...it's nothing sweetheart." Gwenevere smiled at this, banishing that second frightening form back into the recesses of her soul. Seeing this, Sophie shook her head and crouched down to her level. When she was face to face with the concerned little nymph, she clasped both of her shoulders in a genuine apology.

Garrett had told her all about Gwenevere. What she was. How she wanted nothing more than to denounce that side of herself forever, even if it cost her every ounce of her magic and future. But in spite of his words, his warnings, nothing could have prepared her for what she had seen in those eyes.

A cruel pang found her chest. No doubt Gwenevere had sensed her fears. Fears she harbored for her.

Only mere moments after the nymph had confided that everyone she had met within the bowels of the city harbored prejudices against her; Sophie had found herself blatantly doing the same.

"Gwenevere. I'm so sorry. I know what you are, and where you came from. Of your history."

"You do?"

"Yes. Garrett told me everything. He really thinks the world of you."

"Yes, I know that now." Gwenevere blushed, turning her attention back to her meal preparations in order to hide her flushed expression from Sophie.

"But even so, I was unprepared for what I just saw in you. I have to admit, I've never actually had the pleasure of meeting a wood nymph." She offered.

"Oh. Is that why I frightened you?" Gwenevere replied meekly, beginning to stir the brown sauce that she was boiling for the main course.

"Gwenevere. That's what I was apologizing for. No doubt you've already gotten enough of that from everyone else. I know what it feels like, to be shunned and hated for something that you were born with. Something that you can't even help."

This prompted the young woman to spin around again, a bit more apprehensively this time. She did not wish to frighten her host again.

"You...do?" With a solemn smile, Sophie nodded.

"I have a certain illness which prevents me from going out in the sun. Photosensitivity. My skin is especially sensitive to harsh light. I was born with it you see. Whenever I do go out, I have to wear a cloak and hood to protect my skin. I guess that sometimes makes me look a tad suspicious, and the fact that I usually only come out at night...Let's just say, such activities can fuel a lot of ignorant rumors."

"Born with it?! I'm...I'm so sorry..." Gwenevere gasped. "Does Basso have it too?"

"No, big brother was blessed with the health in the family. Not that he's ever been especially grateful, mind you." Sophie rolled her eyes.

"You don't seem very fond of him." Gwenevere took the apple cake out of the oven.

"Huh?"

"Basso. You don't seem to like him very much." Her naive words caused Sophie to burst out laughing.

"Of course I like him; I love him! He's my brother!"

"But then, why are you always so angry at him?" Gwenevere cocked her head.

"I'm not angry at him Gwenevere. Sure, I might want to knock some sense into him about all of his crazy binge drinking and unstable relationships, but that doesn't mean I love him any less. I just worry about the old taffer, that's all. It's what siblings do. I would do anything to make sure he's alright." She explained with genuine kindness. Gwenevere listened intently as each word left her lips, her eyes glistening again. Noticing this, Sophie crooked an eyebrow. "You don't have anyone you feel that way about Gwenevere? No family, no friends?"

"Well, no. I never had any of that. Simmons wasn't my real father. I've been living with him for as long as I can remember, but I always knew that he wasn't my father. I stayed and accepted him as such, because I thought that he was the closest thing to a family I would ever have. Even if he treated me badly, even after he made it agonizingly clear that he didn't love me back, I stayed."

"Gwenevere, why?!"

Sophie's own heart was pulsing with empathy for the ruby haired woman who stood in her small kitchen; pouring her heart out to a complete stranger.

"Because. I didn't think that anyone would ever care about me. Until I came here, that is. I used to think that all city people were bad. I don't remember much about my mother, but of all the lessons she instilled upon me, that message resonates with the most clarity." Gwenevere's cheeks flushed a brilliant fuschia again. "But you, and Basso. Garrett...I don't care what anyone says; the watch, my father, even my mother. None of you are bad. "

Small tears found the corners of Sophie's eyes at Gwenevere's words. She quickly brushed them away, and embraced her guest.

"Gwenevere. If anyone treats you like garbage, they're full of shit."


	44. Chapter 45

Garrett sat impatiently at the table. The sound of silence flooded his eardrums, as he stared out the window at the setting sun. His apprentice had been away all afternoon with Basso's sister, and with the impeding twilight, the thief was beginning to feel just the slightest twinge of worry building within his chest.

_How long does it take to cook dinner?_ He thought, tapping his fingers against the wooden table.

Suddenly, he noticed two hooded figures walking down the street. One was slightly taller, than the other, although they both appeared to be carrying a set of large wicker baskets. Even with their faces obscured, it didn't take the thief long to recognize them. Sophie and his Gwenevere.

Sophie abruptly halted just outside the hovel entrance, took a moment to survey the surrounding area, then quickly and quietly unlocked the front door. It popped opened with a slight creak, and she motioned for Gwenevere to enter first.

Once inside, she removed her hood, allowing a sea of red waves to flow downwards over her shoulders. Garrett stood to greet her. As she fully removed her dark navy cloak from her body, he noticed that she was still wearing a soft yellow apron, although it was covered in a few brown gravy stains from her efforts.

"Hello Garrett! We're back!" The young woman greeted.

"Did you have to go to all the way to Auldale to find yourself a cook or something?" He looked down at her with a devious smirk.

"For your information Garrett, Gwenevere prepared this entire feast all by herself. She's got some admirable kitchen skills." Sophie winked, after clearing her throat.

"That's great and all, but I still can't belive you know how Gwenevere. Didn't your father have any cooks of his own?" The thief replied bluntly. The boxman's sister was about to protest, but the sound of jovial laughter leaving Gwenevere's dark lips stopped her.

"Well sure he did!" Gwenevere only giggled more as she began to unpack her basket. Garrett's mouth watered as the scent of an unseen rich meat dish found his nostrils. "But he had me learn how to cook so that I would, 'blend in'."

"Somehow the idea of teaching an upperclass noble to do any sort of chores doesn't sound like the way to go about that." Garrett scoffed.

"Oh, I don't mind. Actually, I don't even think of it as a chore. It's something that I really enjoy." She replied, reaching for some silverware.

"Enjoy?" Garrett crooked an eyebrow in surprise, taking extra time to discern if Sophie's cutlery was made out of real metal or not. In the event that they were, the thief was sure that she couldn't miss a few old spoons.

"Well, Mister Fussy, you'll be grateful for her new skill just as soon as you taste some of what she's prepared." Sophie spoke sharply, noticing where his eyes were wandering. "She let me have the smallest nibble of that apple cake, and all I can say is, you've got yourself a keeper there Garrett." Sophie raved.

The four sat around the rectangular wooden table, surrounded by the unmistakable scent of foods that three of them had never had the pleasure of tasting. Until now. Gwenevere sliced off succulent and tender strips from her beef dish, and served each of her 'family' members a hearty portion. Next came the potatoes, their crispy skin concealing the fluffy mixture of butter and herbs within. She decided to just leave the apple cake in the center of the table for general access, as well as what remained of the dinner.

"Smells scrumptious kid!" Basso remarked with a salivating grin. He had since returned from 'settling the score', as he put it, with whatever or whoever had gotten him so worked up earlier in the day. Although from the scowl on his face upon reentering his domain, Gwenevere guessed that it hadn't gone over quite as he would have liked. She blushed a little at his compliment, carefully spooning out some of the Beef a la Rossine for Garrett's plate; the dish that she had prepared specifically with him in mind.

The thief eyed his student as she prepared his food, and when the meal was complete, Gwenevere shyly placed the delicious-looking platter down before him. Garrett took in a deep breath, absorbing the smell of the grand meal. Then he took a small but wonderful-looking morsel up within his fork and began to chew the tender cut of meat.

His every taste bud seemed to dance as he savored the first three course dinner he'd ever had. The seasoning caused his entire mouth to tingle, and his shrunken stomach gurgled and growled as he dug in for more. Gwenevere watched him eat with the slightest twinkle in her eye. She watched as he and the others devoured her carefully prepared food, admiring their zest from across the table.

Once Garrett had finished, he brought the napkin to his lips and then let out a long, contented sigh.

"So, how do you like it?" The young woman asked, still taking delicate nibbles from her own plate.

"That, was beyond delicious Gwenevere." Her thief answered her, his eyes closed.

"And you haven't even tried the cake yet!" Basso exclaimed, reaching for what would be his second slice. "This is by far, the best grub I've ever tasted." His words caused Garrett to sit back up straight.

"Yeah, that reminds me..." He leaned forward, placing his wrists atop the table. He stared into Gwenevere, watching her through livened hawk eyes whilst twiddling his thumbs. "Who exactly was it who gave you all those fruits and vegetables this morning Gwenevere?"

Gwenevere looked up through bites of potato.

"Hmm?" She offered, her mouth full of food. She swallowed and shot Garrett a puzzled expression. "Oh, him. He said that his name was Dawson." Garrett nodded.

"A farmer?"

"No, no. He said that he was part of this group. The Growers, I belive he called it." Garrett suddenly looked very concerned. He leaned in, putting his elbows on the table.

"The Growers?"

An unwavering displeasure gripped his chest and worry shone like beacons within his eyes. He had heard all about the Growers. They were a new faction, less than five years in the making. Apparently, much like the mechanists, they were a branch off of an existing faction; The Pagans. Garrett had extremely mixed emotions about this newest nature-bound cult, and most of them were unpleasant. While their leader spoke adamantly about helping the city as well as still being able to preserve the natural world, Garrett had his doubts about the mans integrity. Needless to say, he wasn't very fond of the notion of Gwenevere speaking with them. Not in the least.

"Yeah! He was really nice!" Gwenevere's smile grew ever more carefree. Garrett retracted his limbs from the table and shook his head.

"That's exactly what you said about Heleana too Gwenevere, and look how 'nice' she turned out." He barked. The young woman's face contorted in shock.

"That was different!" The thief's eyes widened at her defiance. Garrett ground his teeth, tossing his soiled napkin to the floor.

"You told her, everything about yourself. You trusted her without even knowing who she was. How is what happened this morning any different Gwenevere?!" He shouted, startling both Basso and his sister.

"Well, I..." Gwenevere muttered, looking down blankly at her half-eaten plate. "But they want to help the forest Garrett, and the people of this city. Just like me!"

"Gwenevere," Garrett sighed in utter annoyance. How many times had be explained this to her? "Every faction that ever was and ever will be within this city has made a similar claim. We're gonna help people. We're gonna preserve the woods. We're gonna make murderous robots to improve life here by killing it all off. But at the end of the day, they're all the same; holier than thou idealists who hide behind their faiths and tenants as an excuse to cover their own arses. Greedy, bloodthirsty nutcases. And I guarantee that this Dawson and his Growers are no different."

"But Garrett! They were! They asked me to join even!" This news completely flabbergasted the thief. His brows furrowed at his protégés utter naïve ignorance. Such innocence would be the death of her if he couldn't wean her from it.

"Well I hope you said no kid." Basso burped. "I have to agree with Garrett here; those forest folk are completely bonkers. I mean, have you seen the get-ups they wear? It's like what happens when a farmer collides with a monk in a dark alley."

"Maybe they do dress a little funny, but that doesn't mean-"

Before she could finish, Garrett slammed his hand against the table, startling her.

"Apparently you seem to have a problem listening to me, and a dangerous hobby of talking to strangers. So I'm going to make this very clear Gwenevere. Stay away from people I haven't deemed safe." His right eye reflected the faint candlelight as he glowered at her. "And stay OUT of the forest."

Without warning, a budding anger suddenly consumed her mind. Gwenevere felt the breath leave her body and the world turned a disturbing shade of greenish grey. The voices in her head, had returned:

"Whysie you listen to this manfool? Hes not the one to makies these choices fors you."

She shook her head violently as the voices grew louder and louder, now screaming at her to rebel.

"Yous are the Last Mother, daughter of the Leafy Lord. This manfool defies you; constricts you. I says, constrict HIMS! Useie your vines to crunch his bones and tear his fleshies. Makes him-"

Gwenevere clumsily shot up, her eyes locked shut and her face riddled with unspeakable torment. She clutched her hands to her ears, desperately trying to block out these unseen demons, even though she knew it was useless. They had been malicious enough in the past. They had been the ones to convince her to kill Heleana's mechanists, and the Thief-Taker General. But now...

Now, they were telling her to kill Garrett.

"Gwenevere?! Gwenevere, snap out of it!" Garrett's voice pulled the quaking nymph out of the unwavering inferno of that hell. She opened her eyes, her vision hazy and her head spinning. Gwenevere snapped her neck upright to meet the concerned faces of Sophie and Basso, as well as that of the thief, who was now standing from his chair. There was an unwavering desperation written in his expression. His right hand was extended slightly, as if he were just about to touch her before she came to. Gwenevere gasped and sank to her knees in utter shame.

"Garrett...I'm so sorry for what I am."

"Kid? You ok?" Basso asked, dropping his fork.

"Garrett, what's happening to her?" Sophie inquired, as she and her brother stood as well. Garrett thought for a moment, before the answer found him.

"They've gotten to her again..." He snarled, rushing to the aid of the fallen nymph.

Instantly, he was at her side, kneeling beside her. His face was even paler than usual, and Gwenevere felt as the world around her began to fade away.

"Gwenevere, what triggered this?! Everything was going fine tonight; where did this even come from?!" He stopped short when he noticed the ground beneath his knees.

The coolness of the dirt was alive with a dark green moss. Sprigs of ivy and tiny yellow flowers bloomed forth over the hardened leather of his pants, causing the thief to brush them away. Gwenevere's breathing quickened, and she slumped forwards, barely catching herself with her hands. More moss inched away from her touch. It was at that moment that Garrett's worst fears were confirmed. He now realized just where all this new plant life was coming from.

"Gwenevere!" He demanded, his posture beginning to tremble as a sickly green liquid began to overflow from her gaping mouth.

The nymph struggled to stay awake, her mind rushing with millions of questions and fears. Why WOULD they tell her to kill him?! Why would such thoughts and suggestions even enter her mind?!

When she had used her dark powers to engulf the mechanists, when she had transformed into the wood beast to slaughter the general, even last year when she had tried to save that blue-eyed girl. All of those situations had been triggered by injustice and rage. All of her victims deserved their fate for what they had done.

But Garrett had merely told her to stay out of the forest. Why had she gotten the urge to end HIS life?

"They...told me..." She started. The thief stared into her sweaty face, his eyes wide with terror.

"What Gwenevere?! What did they tell you?!" He pressed her to remain conscious.

"Garrett...please help me...I don't wanna hear them anymore...I want to be human..." She begged weakly as her eyes began to glaze over.

"I promised you I would Gwenevere, but you have to help! You have to fight this!"

"I...can't...I'm just-" Garrett cut her off by pressed his lips into hers, despite the way her fevered flesh unnaturally burned into his. The scars below his right eye re-opened upon contact, causing a trickle of his blood to drizzle down onto Gwenevere's cheek. He withdrew, watching as her eyes flooded with passionate yet hopeless tears.

"-You can and you will Gwenevere! Nymphs cannot be thwarted this easily; this I know. Despite what you might belive, you are very, very strong. Why do you think Simmons wants your power, why the pagans wanted it? You have the potential to do great things Gwenevere, and I'll die first before I see that chance denied. Now fight!" He demanded, with utmost authority. "FIGHT!"

Gwenevere locked eyes with him, her face very alert and flushed for a moment. She opened her mouth to speak, one last time.

"I'm sorry Garrett. But I can't fight them anymore..."

"Gwenevere!" The thief shook her violently, but to no avail.

As her mind went blank, she felt powerful arms pull her limp body close to a palpitating heart.

Her form temporarily silenced, Basso and Sophie eagerly approached the dramatic scene. Sophie's face paled at the sight of Gwenevere, her body darker than usual, and her breathing shallow.

"What the hell just happened to her Garrett?!" The boxman whispered, his wide brown eyes never leaving the young woman's unconscious form. Garrett stood, bringing Gwenevere up into his arms.

"It's a long story." Basso stepped off to the side allowing the thief to pass, but he continued to walk behind him, as did Sophie. He intercepted once to hold open the door to the storage room for the two.

Garrett entered and set Gwenevere down upon the bed. Sophie rushed over and beheld her critical condition.

"Poor dear." The older woman crooned, stroking back a strand of ruby hair from Gwenevere's sweltering brow. She moaned slightly at the gentle caress. Casting her eyes up to meet Garrett's numb expression, she hesitantly began to speak. "Is this...part of her being a wood nymph?" Garrett turned away from her.

"Gwenevere is a what now?!" Basso exclaimed, in a tone bordering on amused. "You been drinkin' Sophie?"

"It's true Basso. She's a wood nymph." Garrett replied in a lost, monotone voice. "And she's the only one left."

"Well why the taff didn't anyone tell me this?!" The boxman demanded. Garrett leered in his direction.

"I did. About a month ago at the tavern."

"Oh..." Bassso grinned at him stupidly. "Well, that explains why I don't remember then..."

"Garrett..." Sophie touched his arm. "Can you help her?" He looked down at Gwenevere, her chest still struggling to take in air.

"I promised her I would. But to be honest, I'm beginning to doubt that I can."


	45. Chapter 46

SIMMONS FAMILY MANOR

SIXTEEN YEARS AGO

Two dark-haired women dressed in french maid outfits bowed in unison as the double doors of the great hall began to open. Four heavily armored members of the city watch grunted and groaned as the struggled to push against the twelve foot mahogany doors, and between them stood the master of the house.

Sir Vladimir Simmons himself.

He was still dressed in his clerical vestments, a golden mechanist symbol embroidered upon the chest of said garb. His greased black hair was in disarray, and there appeared to be faint splotches of coppery brown staining his gloves. While both of his servants took notice of this, neither would have dared to ask about it directly.

What they did ask about however, was the small girl who as following him.

She wore a torn tan dress, and she was barefoot. Her hair was a long, tangled mess of light cinnabar waves, brambles and dead leaves matted in the ends. She appeared to be no older than six, perhaps eight. Her eyes were cast downwards, dirt smudges lining her shy, crestfallen face.

"L-lord Simmons, who is she?" The more daring of the two maids inquired, stepping forwards to accept his gloves as he removed them from his trembling hands. She winced as the unmistakable stink of blood and death found her nose. Simmons glared at her, his expression so fierce that it caused the other maid to cower.

"None of that matters. If you value your life, you shan't ask such questions ever again. Just treat her like my daughter from here on out." His eyes wore a livened zest, laced with sheer greed. "Because that's exactly what she has become." The maid nodded briskly before taking the blood-stained garments to the washroom. The other, stood with her eyes locked on the lost child before her, and awaited further orders.

She was staring at her now, through untamed, unimaginable green eyes. A chill ran down the maid's spine. This was no ordinary little girl. Truth be told, she wasn't entirely convinced that it WAS a little girl. If Simmons had told her that she was a wild beast, she would have just as readily believed him.

"Olaura, take her to the bathchambers and get this Pagan garbage off of her!" Simmons barked, tearing a stray ivy leaf from the child's messy locks. He sneered as she stared up at him.

_ Yes, and after that, we'll work on getting it OUT of you as well..._

"Yes Lord Simmons!" The young maid bowed graciously.

She approached the little girl and shakily held out her hand. "Come with me, Lady..." She instinctively looked up at her master, unsure of the child's name. Simmons turned away with a grunt, agitated with being caught off-guard. For he hadn't thought one up for her yet. His eyes scanned the room for a moment, desperately searching for a name. Any name would do. It wouldn't be given out of affection, after all.

His eyes finally registered on a large oil painting towards the end of the great hall. The piece was a panoramic depiction of a large sandstone castle overlooking the expanse of the sea. Upon the balcony of the tallest tower, stood a fair-skinned blonde, the wind kissing her face with salty brine. The sun was almost lost beyond the horizon, the choppy surf below a stunning golden hue.

The title of the painting was, "Princess Gwenevere awaiting the night."

Simmon's lips curled into a devious smirk. The artist responsible had never been one of his personal favorites. In fact, the painting in question wasn't even his. It belonged to his wife. The perfect name for a girl who he planned on only keeping around for his own benefit.

"Gwenevere. Her name is Gwenevere."

THE CITY

PRESENT DAY

Sunlight poured into the room, illuminating the grey stone walls with a radiant shimmer. Jenivere's persistent caws pierced the morning silence, finally awakening Gwenevere. A brilliant green comforter wrapped her body, trapping her warmth. Her eyes began to open, and she sat. Looking around the room, the figure of Garrett slowly faded in from distorted haze.

His eyes were both closed, his head resting upon his hand. Gwenevere smiled when she noted that he must have fallen asleep whilst sitting. The events of the other night suddenly flooded back to her, the wicked suggestions given by the unseen abominations still pounding away in her skull. The trigger that had first caused them to speak to her was still a mystery, and one that she desperately sought to understand.

For a moment, she sat in absolute silence. Her thief. How could she even for a second think to do him harm?! Turning away from him, she finally stood and walked over to the window and stared out. The city was a little less gloomy this morning, but not by much.

"And good morning to you as well." Garrett huffed. Gwenevere jumped, clutching her tiny hand to her chest.  
>"I-I...you were still asleep," She stuttered, turning to face him.<br>"Or so you thought." The thief chuckled, rising from his seat. "How are you feeling Gwenevere?" He asked, his eyebrow arching with interest.  
>"To be entirely honest, I'm not sure..." She sighed.<p>

Silence followed for a moment, before Garrett disrupted it.

"What happened last night? What did they say to you this time?" Turning to face him, Gwenevere looked up with pitiful wide eyes. She didn't have the nerve nor the heart to tell him what the voices had commanded her to do. That they had told her to kill him.

"I honestly have no idea what happened to me last night. That frightens me."

She answered his question as vaguely as she possibly could, and the thief was well aware of this.

Garrett closed his eyes, exhaling a loud breath of air from his nostrils.

"Gwenevere. If I'm going to be able to help you, I need to have all the details."

"I can't tell you! You'll...you might hate me..." Her answer cut through him like a hot knife. His eyes contracted with a perplexed hurt. Did she honestly think that he could EVER hate her?!

"Gwenevere. I could never hate you. Trust me."

"Why?"

"Because..." He started, gracing her cheek with a calloused thumb. "I know that you would never betray me, never purposely cause me harm."

He bit his lip slightly, recalling what the Pagan Temple Keeper had told him. How the 'voices' Gwenevere heard were no demons, but rather the forgotten memories of her past. The contained diety within her fighting to get out. The elder had informed him that such occurrences were beyond her control, but Garrett wasn't buying it. In his experience, nothing was impossible.

"Alright...I'll tell you." She sniffed. "They told me to...constrict you..."

"Constrict me? That doesn't sound so bad." Garrett gave her a naughty grin. "Sounds kind of fun actually."

"No Garrett! Constrict you..."

"I still don't understand how-"

The nymph cut him off by throwing open her arms. Her tongue once again laced with native wood nymph gibberish, she began to chant something. The storage room faded into a vibrant forest green, and Gwenevere's nails lengthened into thick, sharp thorns. The wooden floorboards below her bloomed with blue poppies and soft teal moss. Garrett crossed his arms and smirked, unnerved by her latest magic show.

That is, until dark undulating vines sprang up from the sides of her body.

The inital two were quickly joined by six more leafy growths. Like a ravenous hydra, they writhed and twirled, leaving the confident thief momentarily dumbstruck. Sensing this, Gwenevere's eyes softened. The neon crimson fading back into its normal green and gold coloration. She dropped her stance and Garrett watched the plant life around him absorb back into the earth, rendering the storage room empty of flora once more.

"They wanted me to use...those. To kill you." She whispered, trying her hardest to remain focused on her mentor.

Garrett shook his head in disbelief. Just when he thought he knew everything about Gwenevere and her untamed powers, another new ability would literally bloom forth.

"Uh-huh." Garrett swallowed hard, the lump in his throat aching. He stood there, immobilized.

He knew that he needed to say something; but he didn't think he could. His mouth was uncomfortably dry, and his voice now seemed a world away.

"Gwenevere, I-"  
>"Yes Garrett?" The nymph's voice was soft and reassuring.<br>"Answer me this one question: Do you truly want to try and become human?"

He looked at her wide-eyed, and she in turn, appeared slightly confused.

Hadn't she given his answer already? At least twice now.

Why couldn't he understand how much she direly wished to be mortal?!

To be, normal.

"Yes!" She proclaimed, filled with the first hope she'd felt in weeks.

"Even if it means revoking any and all of your magical abilities?" He continued to sternly press her.

"I don't even care about them Garrett. I don't care about magic, or power, or anything like that! I never have."

Her answer must have surprised him, because Garrett took a step back and just stared at her. Once again, the room went silent and this time, neither of them tried to revive it.

"Why do you want to be human so badly Gwenevere?"

"Because I want to be with you!" She exclaimed loudly, plowing into him. Garrett released a surprised grunt as she wrapped her arms around his chest tightly. She looked up at him, sappy yellow tears leaving her eyes. "I want to be with you..."

"Gwenevere. You don't have to be human to stay with me. I don't care what you are."

He bent over and gently kissed her tender lips. Gwenevere melted instantly into the soft passion, closing her eyes in unspeakable lust. Garrett embraced her, wrapping one arm around her slender waist, and the other carefully cradling her head. He leaned in for a deeper kiss, and once again, his tongue danced smoothly with her own.

The sticky, honey-like tear drops continued to flow past her eyelashes, but Gwenevere didn't bother to wipe them away.

These tears were very, very special.


	46. Chapter 47

Darkness enshrouded her. The air was thick with adrenaline and danger, although Gwenevere was, in actuality, perfectly safe. But just knowing that he was out there, waiting for her in the dark. Watching her. Such realizations did nothing to calm her flustered nerves.

She and her mentor were back within the abandoned house where Heleana's Mechanists had held their meeting last time. Garrett had assured Gwenevere that now that he was well aware of her plots and desires, the sultry sadist would not be holding such a meeting there again. Heleana was renowned for just how quickly she could fall off the radar, when necessary. She was so good at it in fact, that for years, Garrett had thought her dead.

Gwenevere sighed hard. It had already been such a stressful week for the young apprentice, and one that she would sooner like to forget. Gwenevere could not think about what the demons had ordered her to do, without feeling a cold shudder tear across her spine.

Kill Garrett?! Why would they tell her to do this?!

The thief had saved her life on more than one occasion, and he meant absolutely everything to her. Even as she stood concealed within that comforting blanket of darkness, the nymph felt her knees begin to quake.

She knew that he could be upon her at any moment, that she had to keep moving silently through the darkness in order to evade him. To pass her test. But Gwenevere's feet felt cemented to the floor. She squeezed her eyes shut, locking the sulfurous green flares away into her subconscious.

The memories, now came in droves...

SIMMONS FAMILY MANOR

SIXTEEN YEARS AGO

The middle-aged tutor pressed his silver-rimmed glasses further up the bridge of his hooked nose. He stared inquisitively at the beckoning child situated at the small mahogany desk. His lips quirked, as he attempted to conceal his utter confusion and disbelief from her.

Who exactly did Master Simmons think he was fooling?!

Scholar Frederick was an old friend of the prestigious family. He, as well as a good two quarters of the staff had been in the services of the Simmons family since the current lord was in swaddling clothes. They knew him, they knew the family.

And they KNEW, that Lord Vladimir Simmons, had no heirs.

Certainly, there was the possibility that he had chosen to adopt the stray waif, but this possibility seemed extremely unlikely, given his strong involvement in the Mechanist order. Hence the task before the aging teacher.

"Good morning, Lady Gwenevere. Are you ready to begin todays linguistics?" The child looked up meekly, and frowned. She didn't want to open her mouth.

Every time she had, since coming here, they had persecuted her for it. Teased her. Called her garbage. Barbaric, uncivilized waste. "Gwenevere?"

"Mm-hmm..." Was all she answered him with.

Frederick crooked his thick grey eyebrow at her, his lips pursing in disdain. This girl was no older than around three years or so, yet she seemed strangely worldly and intelligent beyond her years.

"That is not a proper response. Use a complete sentence, if you please." The little girl looked up from the various books and study aids sprawled across her desk. With a somewhat frustrated huff, she did as she had been told.

"Yes, I bes ready to begins the lesson..." He voice was soft, muffled. Almost a whisper.

"Now, there are at least two things wrong with the grammar you just exhibited Gwenevere. Can you point out where you went wrong?"

"I said bes again..." She grumbled.

"Yes, and 'begins'. The word begin is present tense, my dear. It is only pronounced as begins during first-person perspective, such as when one writes a story from the protagonists viewpoint." He corrected.

Turning to his chalkboard, he began to scribble down a sentence in cursive.

"For example: My story begins on a cold and foggy morning, in late winter." His chalk squeaked slightly as he formed the last word, closing it with a period and quotation marks. He turned around, his right hand still held firmly against the board. As expected, Gwenevere was paying full attention. She was still a bit young to be using a quill, as Simmons had expressed concern over her wasting ink, so Frederick deigned to instruct her in writing just yet.

"As for 'bes', that is not a word. The correct term is, 'be', but not in this case. When referring to yourself, the correct word is, 'am'. Your sentence should have sounded like this Gwenevere: "Yes, I am ready to begin the lesson. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I thinks so..." Her reply prompted the elder to exhale a frustrated sigh.

He found teaching pupils a second language less taxing, and this was just mere grammar correction.

Or was it?

Taking a seat adjacent from hers, Frederick locked his fingers together just below his chin, and rested it upon his bony digits. Bringing up his index fingers, he adjusted his glasses a second time.

"M'lady. It is extremely important that you learn to correct your speech impairment, and quickly. You don't want others to speak illy of you, correct?"

"No." Gwenevere tried to keep her responses to one word again.

"That's what I thought. Regardless of where you...came from..." A shudder found his person, when he remembered the ominous rumors circulating THAT subject matter.

Simmons returning to his home with his clerical Mechanist robes stained in blood. His quirky and defensive disposition. The Pagan toddler he had claimed as his own daughter. Again, who exactly did he think he was fooling?

But perhaps the most disturbing question, the question on every staff members mind; what would a Mechanist possibly want with a pagan anyway?

"...Well, regardless. You need to try and act normal from here on out."

Gwenevere's eyes shimmered with icy hurt. Where she had come from, she had been cherished, wanted. Loved.

Even if she wasn't 'normal', she had known that she was very, very special.

A leather-clad hand came down around her mouth. Gwenevere shrieked and fought to pull away. The unseen force pressed her firmly into a nearby wall, and another arm wrapped around her waist, forcing her to turn around to face her captor. Garrett's eyes gleamed in a way that would rival any cat.

"Found you." His confident voice proclaimed.

"I...I'm sorry. I wasn't paying attention." The thief released his grasp on her, and his posture turned stiff. Gwenevere couldn't be sure, but she thought he seemed annoyed at her.

"How do you expect me to teach you if you never pay attention Gwenevere?" He affirmed her suspicions. "What drew your focus away this time?"

"I had a memory of my childhood."

"And?" Gwenvere turned away.

"Nothing. Let me try again."

"Are you sure you'll be able to focus this time?"

"I'm sure."

"Alright." Garrett watched her for what seemed like minutes, trying to gauge whether she was lying or not. Even though he was pretty certain that she was, he knew that her training was more important than ever now.

She HAD to push herself, and he HAD to be tougher on her. If she was ever going to fulfill her desire to break though herself. To defy nature and become human. He was a large believer in mind over matter. He couldn't recall just who had instilled this belief in him. Perhaps the Keepers; most likely Artemus. All Garrett knew, was that it could be done. He was living proof of that.

His plan was to try and wean away any possible link to Gwenevere's true nature. The dark magic, the desire to retreat into the forest. This was yet another reason why he disliked her using her spells. Not because they made it easier on her and could possibly become a crutch later on in her training; but because they were birthed into existence by her darker element. His apprentice had readily agreed, and Gwenevere had instead begun to use a less supernatural approach. The nymph had taken to studying about herbalism in her spare time.

Under Garrett's instruction, she had prepared some spore grenades, which were filled with a mixture of toxic, debilitating pollens. They were her answer to the thief's blackjack, as they would eventually serve to knock people unconscious upon inhaling said spores. Garrett hoped, that this would help dissuade her from the uncontrollable urges she got to kill when facing danger.

Gwenevere had also taken to wearing a navy cloth mask around her nose and mouth to block out said spores. Her eyes were even more stunning when they were the only feature Garrett could make out in the darkness of his training house. They ate through him now, coaxing him with an inexplicable yearning, and tormenting him with unspoken ire. Not Gwenevere's feelings; but rather that of the dormant goddess within.

Separating her from reality, from her purpose. The beast within screamed at him that this was very wrong. But it was also what Gwenevere, the REAL Gwenevere, desired more than anything in the world. And while Garrett still didn't understand such a desire, he wanted her to be happy.

"Try to avoid me this time. Remember, you need to get to the roof undetected in order to pass." With those last instructions, he dashed back into the shadows, and the test continued.

This time, Gwenevere did not falter. Even as the pieces of her lost history poked and tormented her mind, she remained focused.


	47. Chapter 48

Seabirds screamed over the cold sea as the wind whistled through the barren trees. The usually quiet rural hamlet was bustling with activity and life on this particular morning. Men and women alike were carrying large baskets of produce, bales of hay were trudged forward in wooden carts by strong horses, and the smell of rich pies and sweet meats being cooked wafted out of nearly every window.

It was the day of the Growers much-anticipated Pristine Ritual, in honor of their faction relic and the sheer power and history behind it. The artifact in question, was none other than the Primal Stone; their sacred source of all life energy. It had been taken from their possession a little over a year ago now, and all searches had turned up fruitless. For only those attuned to its presence could ever hope to sense it.

The Pristine Ritual was the biggest as well as the only holiday that the Growers celebrated; the rest of their year came and went without incident. The warmer months were long, and spent with hard labor for the adults, as well as their offspring. There was, nor had there ever been, a lazy Grower. The group's very survival was linked to its inhabitants strong work ethic. However, when the day was done, a warm meal and a cold beer was a welcome treat to most of the weary followers. The youths were given time off from their work and school on the weekends, and the laugher of children echoed throughout the trees and down the beach on those joyous days.

The Growers had all gathered into Dawson's cabin by the time the sun had disappeared into the sea, all dressed in their standard tan and sepia vestments. The food had all been arranged and presented in decorative and tasty looking ways. The parents had just come back with their youths, who were riled from a free day of play down by the seashore. The rigorous activity had kept the children busy, but it came at a price, as all of the Grower children were ravenous for the bountiful feast before them, and the smell of sweet pies and juicy meats was making them restless.

The urchins were not alone in their plight, however. Men and women alike all gawked at the huge feast, their eyes glazed and their jaws practically dripping with anticipation.

Dawson thumbed through the dusty tomb in his hands, turning each page with earnest respect. His hood was down, and his mid-length chestnut hair was decorated by a hand-woven, leafy crown. After carefully positioning a worn woven bookmark between the pages, Dawson closed his book and stepped forward to greet his followers.

"Welcome, brothers and sisters of the Earth! I know that you all have been busy all day cooking and working hard, but if it wouldn't be too much to ask, I would like to make an announcement."

"No! Let's eat right now!" All eyes turned on the young boy whom had just cried out. His embarrassed mother pulled him close and whispered something in his ear. Dawson smiled at the his bold antics.

"That's alright lad! We'll be eating before you know it, I promise." He said with a chuckle. He then raised both of his arms outward in a welcoming fashion. His eyes sparkled with zest at the passage he had just found hidden away in his late father's forgotten tome.

The answer to all of his people's woes.

Their key to true success.

"This has been a bittersweet year for The Growers. We harvested our fair share of produce, but we have also lost a very important part of who we are. We have saved many members of this corrupted city, but in doing so, wicked men have had their suspicions aroused." Dawson took extra notice of the young mother he had rescued last month. She held her two daughters close to the sides of her body, her smile wide and her heart hanging onto her saviors every word. With a touched nod, the leader reached behind him, and reclaimed the book he had been skimming through.

"But no longer! For within these sacred texts, I have found the key to our very survival! The celestial beast that shall return our Primal Stone to us, and in doing so, reveal themselves as our prophesized deity! My brethren; rejoice and partake within the Pristine Ritual like never before. For our struggles are nearly concluded!" A loud cheer rose from the crowd.

Dawson waited for the cacophony of gleeful voices to calm into silence once more, then continued.

"But that isn't all! These wicked men I mentioned; the corrupted nobles who first took our holy relic away from us! They now seek to usurp our god as well! Listen well to the following passages." With that, Dawson flipped open to his bookmarked page, and began to carefully read. "The Parent shall come upon you. They shall engulf you in a holy fire of vigilance. They shall undo all foul deeds, all transgressions. They shall sacrifice all to return as the Great Beast of the Wood. Only then, shall the Children of the Earth dwell and prosper." One of the men from the crowd raised his hand, clearing his throat.

"Dawson, son of Jeremiah Landon, our wizened founder. What do these predictions mean? Just who or what is this 'parent'?"

"Allow me to further explain Bartholomew. I belive that The Parent represents none other, than a deity of Pagan roots." Several shocked gasps rose from the crowd, prompting Dawson to smile again. "I know it sounds a bit...blastphamous...but I have met this deity. At the time, I did not recognize her, but after tedious study and thorough rereading of the holy texts, I now can safely proclaim that I trust my findings, as should you."

"Who is this great deity?" Another inquired, not bothering to raise his hand.

"The Last Mother. She currently takes the transitional form of an innocent young maiden, with blood-red hair and ferocious green eyes laced with gold. I have seen her, nay, spoken to her friends! She, holds the key to our future. And we must protect our future."

"But why? If she's a goddess, why can't she just protect herself?" The ever haughty Aniah rang out. Dawson leered into her defiant expression.

"Because of this!" He slammed the book down hard upon the alter for all to see. As his fellows gathered around him, Dawson read a second passage. "When the Trickster's spawn brings forth the Primal Stone, all shall be united. All shall fall."

A few members of the congregation recoiled at this foreboding sentence. Again, Aniah made herself known.

"She sounds more Pagan than Grower. How can we trust her if she's the Trickster's doing?!" A few agreeable murmurs from the crowd could be heard. Feeling more courageous than usual, given her aforementioned support, Aniah advanced closer to Dawson. The leader stood firm, even when she was almost face to face with her rival. "And what's that about all being united and then falling?! That makes no sense! Surely even you must recognize this Dawson!"

"Stand down Aniah! You've had your say!" The leader roared, causing his second to shrink backwards. "I know, this sounds very confusing and frightening to you all. But we must help protect the Last Mother. I have been watching the stars every night since she first appeared before me in the fields. Powerful foes now seek to take her power, and use it as their own. The Last Mother is still mortal, she has yet to embrace her dormant prowess. These non-believers, these...twisted creatures...they strive to kill her! They no doubt have seen this prophecy as a sign that she can grant them power over all by the term, 'all shall fall'. But nothing could be further from the reality! If The Last Mother is robbed of her power and murdered, the remaining spirit of her forebear shall be vengeful indeed. Everyone, save the Pagans, shall perish."

More murmurs rose from the crowd, and Aniah intercepted for her third, and last time.

"Then we must find her. We raze the city to the ground if we have to!"

"Patience Aniah. Her heart is of the untamed wood. She shall come to us."


	48. Chapter 51

"Garrett, I don't understand how I'm supposed to gather ingredients for these grenades without going into the forest."

"It's simple. I'll go. I know what to look for, you don't."

"But Garrett..."

"No." The thief snapped bluntly. Gwenevere folded her arms with a groan, but she didn't try to argue again.

Casting her gaze downwards, she replaced her thick navy mask up over her mouth and nose and went back to work. The various alchemical ingredients sprawled upon the table were all well-known plants that could easily be found within the Pagan wood. If said ingredients were destined to be such a core part of her new theft arsenal, the young woman didn't see any harm in wanting to harvest them herself. Her mentor however, did.

Garrett's plan to keep Gwenevere out of the forest wasn't just caused by her outburst the night before. There was a deeper, more worrisome reason for it. The Growers. Why they had spoken to her at all was troubling enough. As far as he knew, the city factions didn't just go around recruiting followers to their outlandish cults. Outsiders were singled out, and attacked on site, as Garrett could more than attest to. What was the motivation behind this mysterious new group? Garrett didn't know; and he didn't want to know.

"Here. You'll need to finish preparing the containers." The thief instructed, standing behind his seated apprentice. She gave him a silent nod and continued to shape the clay and loam mixture into egg-sized balls. Using water to make the mixture pliable, Gwenevere stuck her thumb and forefinger inside, and gently started hollowing out her creation.

"I'm finished. What do I do now?"

"Nothing. You'll need to let them dry overnight before you can fill and cap them. In the meantime, let's begin work on your spore mixture." Garrett replaced his own mask before reaching into a nearby canister. Several light purple flowers with dark blue centers and black seeds were inside. Their stems and leaves had been removed, and they appeared quite dry. Gwenevere recognized them almost instantly.

"That's a bellaviper flower." She commented.

"Yes. The seeds of this particular plant have a variety of uses, some helpful, others far less so. One of the more debilitating effects, is unconsciousness." His voice was muffled by the material concealing his mouth.

"I know. My mother-" The mention of Viktoria caused a solid lump to enter Gwenevere's throat. She looked away from Garrett, teary eyed. The little nymph fought hard to swallow, then looked back up at him and cleared her throat. "-Well, she taught me a little bit about herbs and Pagan history anyway. I remember her telling me that bellaviper was used during operations to put people under. Apparently, it's very strong."

"Yes, which is why you need to be very careful when using it. To achieve that affect, you'll need to prepare the powder just right. Too little and it won't work, too much, and your victim will end out dead." Garrett explained gruffly. Retrieving a handful of the dried flowers from the metal canister, the thief removed the pea sized black seeds and poured them into a wooden mortar. Taking up the pestle in his left hand, Garrett began to use it to crunch apart the seeds within. Gwenevere watched his demonstration, with knowledge hungry eyes. He glanced up at her, holding the mortar and pestle close to his chest as he worked.

"Have you ever used one of these Gwenevere?"

"Uh-uh." She shook her head.

"Didn't think so. There are two phases to grinding the seeds into powder; bashing and muddling. Bashing involves hitting the seeds with the pestle to break them down, the way I'm doing." He continued to press the black seeds, until their shells opened and splintered.

Garrett then proceeded to apply circular pressure in a clockwise direction with the pestle, rocking the tip slightly against the larger pieces of seed.

"What I'm doing now, is called muddling. Muddling is the process of grinding the seeds into the powder that you'll be putting in your grenades. Here. I got them started, now you can muddle them. Since these grenades are to be your defense mechanism, you'll be doing most of the work in creating them."

"It's only fair." Gwenevere winked, taking the mortar and pestle from him. She began to move the pestle in concentric circles the way he had shown her.

"Nicely done Gwenevere. Once they're dry, make sure to fill each grenade with two parts dried wood moss first. The moss will cause your enemies to choke, flail, and otherwise render them unable to attack you for a few moments before the actual effect of the bellaviper spores actually kick in. Remember Gwenevere, never fill a grenade with any more than one-third spores. That's more than enough. You don't want to kill your victims; just take their loot." He grinned, although his tone was very serious.

"You sure know a lot about plants Garrett, that surprises me."

"Oh?"

"Well, from the way you talk about the Growers and the Pagans, especially the Pagans..." She sighed. "I just never saw you as the type."

"Yeah, the only plants we _cityfools_ know about are the industrial kind." Garrett gave her a sour smirk. "You really should try to be less judgemental Gwenevere."

"You're one to talk..." The young woman laughed.

"Down girl." He chuckled, impressed by her quip.

The room fell into a comforting realm of quiet for a few precious moments, before Gwenevere looked up from her grinding.

"Garrett?"

"Yeah?"

"So how do you know so much about plants anyway?"

"I may not look the type, but I used to read quite a bit."

"Really? I mean, yes. I do remember seeing a few books back in your clock tower, but you never read them when I was around."

"What'd you expect? I was too busy keeping you out of mischief and saving your hide."

"Very funny..."

"Very true."

"Alright fine. So, did you grow plants at one time as well?"

Garrett's disposition suddenly shifted drastically. His posture tensed and his eyes narrowed.

"Why are you asking me this?"

"Well, I just thought you might have."

"Why?" Garrett inquired further. Gwenevere blinked. His tone seemed a bit too defensive.

"Because of that blue flower petal I found. I was just curious is all."

Both of his hands involuntarily dropped to the sides of his tall form, and his eyes met the floor. Although his mouth formed neither a smile nor a frown, Garrett's expression still conveyed the deep turmoil of emotions he was experiencing at that moment.

"Oh...that..." His tone was laced with the sincere discontent and sorrow of a true apology. Garrett turned away from her. "No, I didn't grow that." He mumbled.

"Then who did? And why did you have it?" Gwenevere asked innocently.

The thief looked up from the panelling of the wood floor and instantly locked eyes with her. While his gaze intimidated her, silently warning her not to progress a step further down this dramatic road, Gwenevere's curiosity once again got the better of her.

"You mean you don't know?"

"No. Why would I be asking, if I already knew the answer?" He sighed at her response.

_ No, of course a naïve girl like her wouldn't know about such things..._

"So, why did you have that flower?"

"Because I...Gwenevere, listen. You don't really want to hear all of that. It's a very long story and you've got spore grenades to prepare." He tried to distract her busy mind, one last time.

"But, I thought you said that after the seeds were ground, I would still have to let the clay containers dry before filling them?"

"Fine. I'll tell you. It was a poppy, alright?!"

"Poppy?"

"Yes, as in a narcotic."

A dark aura danced around the thief as he remained motionless, feeling his heart throbbing within his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut. "After...after what happened with...with Erin..."

"Yes?"

"I already told you that I blame myself for it, regardless of what you or anyone else told me. I know she died because of me. Yes, she was reckless. Yes, she stuck her hand in the fire. Yes, she climbed up there even when I told her not to. But in spite of all that; she was still just a kid. She was MY charge, I should have been more competent!" Gwenevere listened intently to his words. "I don't want to upset you, but if you really want to know I'll tell you what happened."

"I do. I really do." She nodded.

"Fine. Truth is, I hit a rough patch afterward, and I began abusing poppies. I never thought much of it, until the after effects began to show. My judgement, had never been so impaired. I began taking spoons, bottle caps, and everything else that in my wasted state I saw as valuable. It almost got me killed. Basso and Sophie managed to pull me out of my addiction, but I still kept the plaques and other trash around in my tower, to remind me never to go back down that dark road again."

Reaching into the folds of his cloak, Garrett withdrew The Memory Keeper; the ancient pentagon-shaped relic which he had used during the infiltration of the House of Blossoms.

"A month before I met you, I explored Erin's old place. She left this for me. I'm almost embarrassed to admit that I didn't even know what it was, until you told me." He smiled sadly.

"Left it for you? But how did you even know it was there?" Gwenevere inquired.

Garrett released an inaudible sigh. He couldn't tell her that.

Even if she was a creature of magic and the supernatural, he had his doubts that Gwenevere would belive him.

That Erin's spirit had appeared before him in a dream, and told him just where to find the relic.

"I just knew..." Was all he decided to answer her with.

"You really loved her, didn't you...for her death to tear you up inside that much."

Gwenevere stood from her seat, removed her protective mask, and embraced him. Garrett didn't answer her. The thief was as stiff as stone in her arms. He felt her soft breathing against his palpitating heart, and he looked down at the nymph as Gwenevere buried her face within his chest. Now that Erin was gone, she was all he had left.

Gwenevere was the only piece of innocence that still remained within his ugly world.


	49. Chapter 52

Gwenevere sat cross-legged on Sophie's couch, her thin fingers intertwined with thick black thread. She took up the needle in her hand, and squinted as she proceeded to try and slip the string through the eye. It wasn't easy. The young woman had never been good at anything tedious; at least not where common house chores were concerned.

Sophie reappeared in the doorway, carrying a silver tray topped with two teacups, cream, sugar, and a generous serving of colorful cookies. She smiled as she witnessed her guest struggling to thread the needle. Setting the tray down on the coffee table, she slid in next to Gwenevere on the couch.

"Here sweetie, let me do that for you." Sophie offered. Gwenevere looked up at her and blinked. Her lips parted into a coy pout.

"Oh, but I can't." Her host stared at her, confused.

"Why not? I would be more than happy to assist."

"Because." Gwenevere turned her attention back to the stubborn needle eye. She tried again, and grunted in aggravation when she missed and watched as the thread bent against the opening. "I have to learn to fend for myself. It's very important for my training. For my future." Sophie blew the steam from her teacup and smiled.

She could respect that.

She watched her guest through sips of tea, keeping perfectly silent until Gwenevere eventually succeeded in treading the needle. The nymph let out a short yet giddy cheer of accomplishment, before resuming work on her project. Since her old outfit had been shredded during the attack on the Thief-Taker General, Gwenevere had been left with only the sparkly blue harlot get-up. Since such an ostentagious color was impractical and downright dangerous in her new line of work, Sophie had offered to help Gwenevere create a new apprentice ensemble. After almost two weeks it was nearly complete.

Just in time for her first test mission.

As she began to sew, Sophie piped up again.

"Gwenevere?"

"Hmm?"

"I've been meaning to ask you; what are your plans?"

"Whatever do you mean?" The young woman looked up, temporarily distracted by the question.

"Well..." Sophie bit her bottom lip. She didn't want to be rude, or too nosy. But nevertheless, she was concerned over the welfare of this little creature.

It worried her that Gwenevere had taken such a quick shining to the two men. While she knew and approved of both Garrett and Basso, they didn't strike her as the sort of people such an innocent young woman should be spending constant time with. Maybe if Gwenevere had grown up with a sense of what she was truly involved in, or what the danger really was. But for such an innocent girl to want to devote herself to a life of crime, simply out of a loyal devotion...

"Gwenevere. What are your plans for the future? After you stop being Garrett's apprentice, you must have some idea as to what you wish to do with your life next, right?"

"My...life?"

Gwenevere dropped the needle and her eyes suddenly grew very wide. The lustrous sparks of gold shimmered in their bath of forest green and ivy. Ever since Simmons had found her. Ever since she had forgotten the ways of the Pagan and learned the etiquette of an uppercrust lady. Ever since then, Gwenevere had felt dead inside. She had unwittingly blocked the traumas into a numbing haze. Never once, had Gwenevere Simmons, pondered her life. She existed, but she did not live.

She had never even felt life, until coming to this dead corner of the city. Until Garrett had stolen any and all doubt from her mind.

"I want to make this city a better place Sophie. That's what I want to do."

"That's very admirable of you Gwenevere. But how is thieving going to help you accomplish this?"

"Well," Gwenevere reached for a cookie, "I want to give what I steal to the people who need it. I don't think it's fair for some people to be rich, while others starve and die. I think that everyone should have an equal amount." She grinned innocently.

"Yes, that would be nice." Sophie finished her tea. "But Gwenevere. You do realize that such notions are impossible, correct?"

"Why?"

"Because sweetie. People can be...well, they can be very greedy. Even if you did help the poor, it would eventually backfire on you. There's an old saying; Give a beggar a million gold, and he'll buy food until he's full. But then he'll soon discover that bread isn't the only thing for sale." Sophie wisely explained. Gwenevere's posture slumped.

"But...surly not everyone is like that. There are good people in this world who wouldn't take advantage of me like that."

"Of course there are. But that's the problem; you don't know who's good and who's not. You never know. People can't be trusted Gwenevere. This is why you always have to be on your guard. Surly Garrett has taught you this by now."

"Yeah, he has..."

Gwenevere shut her eyes, recalling how her mentor had always warned her to avoid outsiders, and to only speak to those he deemed trustworthy. Her mind began to wander to the mysterious young man from the forest. How he had gifted her with food and kindness for absolutely nothing in return. If people were greedy and untrustworthy, why had he done that for her?

Sophie bent down and retrieved the needle and material from the floor. She began to sew, humming to herself for a moment.

"I'm not trying to change your mind honey. I just want you to make an informed decision. There's a whole world out there for you to explore and learn from. Only a fool would settle for the first opportunity presented."

"I suppose..." Gwenevere took a questioning sniff of her tea before drinking. She wasn't used to drinking anything other than water. Taking a quick sip, she made a face at the bitter taste. Noticing this, Sophie giggled.

"Here." She handed Gwenevere the sugar bowl. "This will make it taste better."

Gwenevere took a moment to study the dainty china bowl, before clutching it with both hands. There was a tiny silver spoon poking its way past micro-sized white crystals of some kind. Intrigued, the nymph scooped up a large spoonful, and sifted it into her cup. She tasted the tea again...

Her pupils dilated as the sweetened herbal tea hit her tongue. Her lips parted, and her mouth gaped in wonder. Then she smiled, feeling as though her mouth were filled with carefree happiness. Gwenevere couldn't possibly hope to describe this new sensation. So much had been kept from her, even the simple taste of sugar that most would take for granted was new and exciting.

"Mmm! You're right!" She laughed, still holding the sugar bowl in one hand.

She sat her teacup back down on the tray, causing it to rattle. This time, Gwenevere boldly took a spoonful of the sugar, and deposited it directly into her mouth. Sophie couldn't help but smile at this. When her brother had told her that Gwenevere was of noble bearings, truth be told, she had expected a spoiled refined brat.

Not the naïve, gleeful forest nymph that was Gwenevere.

She watched her guest eagerly devour the sugar, until the entire bowl was empty.

"My Gwenevere! If I didn't know any better, I'd think you've never had sugar before!" She joked. Gwenevere locked eyes with her, allowing her host to see the over exuberance budding within.

"I haven't! This stuff is wonderful! I can't get enough! It's AMAZING!" She exclaimed.

Standing from the couch, the nymph began to spontaneously dance about. Sophie grew slightly concerned at this, but her worries were overshadowed by the deep sympathy she now felt.

What kind of life had the poor girl been living with Simmons; to never even have tasted sugar until now?

"I'm glad you like it."

Garrett positioned his pry bar and gently began to work it up under the sealed window ledge. The wood moaned and squeaked as the window gradually began to open. Replacing his tool, the thief looked over his shoulder once before dropping into the darkened room.

The stillness within was almost disturbing. His sources told him that this home wasn't abandoned, and yet, the furniture within was covered and dusty. Dead rats lay strewn in the corners, some eaten upon by an unknown predator. Garrett began to silently make his way around the naturally lit bedroom, his body stiff with tension, yet prepared for anything that might leap out of the shadows.

"Basso wasn't kidding..." He murmured to himself after carefully finding his first clue. A filthy birdcage was swaying to the side in the corner of the room, and beyond that, was a very detailed painting of a garden. The thief approached the work of art, slipping in between the cage and several stacked wooden chairs.

The foul stench of death hit his nostrils. Thinking it was a dead bird still trapped within the cage, Garrett took a peek between the rusty bars. But save for some dried bird droppings and rancid seed, nothing was inside. Slightly unsettled, the thief shook off his concerns, concluding that it could just as easily be a rat that had crawled between the walls of the house to die. Turning back around, he resumed his work.

Running his hands and fingers around the tarnished gold frame, Garrett found and pressed a concealed switch, and the painting slid away to reveal a locked safe. Withdrawing his lockpicks, the thief went to work on the barrier that now stood between him, and the treasures within.

It didn't take him long to rake the first few pins, but during the last attempt, something didn't feel right. A hot stabbing pain began to register within his face, just below his left eye. At first it was mildly unpleasant, but within seconds, it had the thief doubled over on his knees in horrendous agony. Garrett grimiced squeezing his face, eyes sealed shut. The pain was ominously familiar. It was a sensation that he could never forget. Only this time, his eye had remained intact.

Within minutes, the agony faded. Garrett, now sweltering from the ordeal, slowly got to his feet. He cautiously retracted his hand from his face, and almost gasped at what he saw.

The scar he had received in his nightmare, was bleeding again.


	50. Chapter 53

Dusk overtook the city as the thief dashed along the rooftops to Sophie's home. It was time for him to retrieve his apprentice. He was grateful for the fact that Gwenevere had taken such a liking to Sophie; the time she spent with the boxman's sister meant that he could embark on jobs far too advanced for her, and practice his trade in private. As much as he cared for Gwenevere, it was nice to get away from her now and again.

Garrett wondered if this would be the day that she finished her new outfit. Gwenevere had improved much since resuming her training a few months ago, and she was nearing the stage in which another test would be necessary.

Stooping just above the window to Sophie's bedroom, the thief leered inside. As expected with his old friend's condition, it was dark within. The only feature he could make out, was a worn white nightgown on the bed.

A nostalgic grin plastered across his lips. He could barely remember the confines of that bed, blinded by the blissfulness of youth. To this day, he was still surprised that Sophie still spoke to him, let alone regarded him as a friend. Even if their affair had been mutually spontaneous, most women wouldn't have taken his distanced morning after approach in such a decorous manner. If it hadn't been obvious that the thief had only wanted her body the previous night, there had been no mistaking it, come dawn.

A part of him wondered still, how Sophie had possibly understood. Thinking back on it, it actually surprised Garrett that she had never gotten married. She truly was that special sort of person who came along maybe once or twice a lifetime.

Pushing away such dusty memories and once again pulling free his pry bar, the Master Thief made himself welcome.

"Gwenevere! Darling, please be careful!" Sophie voiced her growing concern for the young woman's out of control behavior. Gwenevere just giggled as she continued twirling around the living room, nearly toppling over a vase in the process.

The little nymph was now lost within the grips of a sugar high. Had Sophie known just how addictive sweet treats were to the naturally fruit-loving wood nymphs, she would have rethought her previous offer. But now it was far too late. She was just going to have to ride out this whirlwind of hyperactivity with her whimsical guest.

"Sophie, what did you do to her?" Garrett's raspy voice caused the already edgy older woman to jump. She gripped her heart and shot the thief a very annoyed glare.

"You know what? I think Basso's right about you Garrett. You don't know how to work a door, do you?" He shrugged.

"Don't see the need for them, personally."

"You wouldn't..." She shook her head. Garrett returned his gaze to his student, who had yet to notice him.

"But honestly, what's going on here? Is she sick or something?"

"Gwenevere, may have eaten an entire bowl of sugar a little while ago." Sophie replied, embarrassed. Garrett's face paled.

"What?! Sophie, you can't give a nymph sugar!"

"Why not?" Garrett groaned, and pointed to where Gwenevere was dancing, lost in her joy.

"There's your answer. Right there." He rubbed his temples. "How long has she been doing that?"

"Long enough." An exhausted Sophie sighed.

"Did she at least put some decent work into her new uniform? She has a test coming up, you know."

"Yes, we actually finished it today! See?" Sophie held up the dark green ensemble for him. Garrett looked it over discerningly.

Gwenevere's navy cape and dark grey belt were all that remained of her old outfit, and they complimented the newest changes quite nicely. Brown leather knee-high boots and arm length leather gloves, a laced dark green leather halter top and a matching skirt with shorts underneath. The design held the typical adorable Gwenevere flair, but to the thief's surprise, it was also quite practical.

"Interesting. Reminds me of something a scout would wear while out in the forest." Garrett commented.

"Isn't it cute? She decided on the pattern herself. Said she could vaguely remember a similar outfit from her past." The thief's lips curved ever so slightly.

Her past.

_That's good. She's getting some of her memories back..._

Garrett could only hope, that more would eventually follow. Maybe then, the lost nymph could finally have some much-needed closure.

Sophie gave him a playful nudge, gaining his attention.

"Look." She whispered. His eyes followed into the direction she was pointing. Gwenevere gave a large yawn, and finally ceased to twirl. She sat back down upon Sophie's couch, and still not noticing Garrett, she laid down. The exhausted girl, was asleep within moments.

"I've told you before Garrett; you've got a good one here." Sophie crossed her arms, stepping closer to her old friend.

The thief did not offer a response to her comment. Instead, Garrett's eyes remained locked upon his apprentice as she slept. He found himself wondering what such fantastical creatures of lore would possibly dream about. Her petite form rose and fell as gently as the breath that left her body, her mouth emitting the quietest of soft gibberish. Nymph speak.

"Please tell me that you're being good to her." She stared up at him with a look of genuine concern.

"To the best of my ability, yes." He replied pessimistically.

"Garrett. There's something...something that's been bothering me."

"Oh?" Sophie hesitated for a long time before speaking.

"Gwenevere has taken such an instant liking to me, and I to her. I never married, never had children. I feel, that she's the daughter I never had Garrett. I would never want to see her suffer, especially by my hand. Or yours, for that matter."

"What are you getting at?" Garrett pondered, glancing away from Gwenevere, and into Sophie's uneasy expression.

"Garrett. Have you told her? About us?" The thief looked at her, stunned.

"Of course not! That was a long time ago Sophie. I'm surprised that you'd even bring it up again." The older woman gently and meaningfully clasped her hands around his. She appeared very unsettled.

"Garrett, you need to tell her. It doesn't feel right, having her think so highly of me and being blind to the fact that I slept with the person she loves most in the world!"

The thief swiftly retracted his hands from hers and crossed his arms. He disliked being touched, especially by Sophie. Something about her touch, something that had been so desired and welcomed years earlier, now made him very uncomfortable.

"If it's bothering you so much, why don't you tell her then?" He snorted.

"No Garrett. I can't do that. It has to come from your lips. Otherwise, she'll think you've been keeping secrets from her." Her latest statement, caused the thief to scoff.

"You just don't get it Sophie. I've taught Gwenevere to never answer questions unless directly asked. I'd be hypocritical if I didn't practice what I preach. If she ever did find out, she'd understand."

"Just be careful. Sometimes secrets can hurt far more than the worst of truths."

Gwenevere's eyes fluttered open sometime after midnight. She was still in Sophie's living room, although she had no recollection of anything prior to her nap. Through the faint glow of two waning oil lamps, she could see Garrett perched in the chair across from her.

"Good evening." He grinned. Gwenevere sat up and stretched her legs out in front of her.

"How long was I asleep?"

"Long enough for Sophie to decide that you should just stay the night." The thief remarked dryly.

"Oh..."

"I heard you finished your new outfit."

"Yes! I can't wait for my test mission; I'm so excited!" Gwenevere replied gleefully.

"That's good. I'm looking forward to seeing how you fare." Garrett leaned back in the armchair.

A faint rustle from outside caught his attention, causing him to look out the nearby window. There were two men below, swerving and talking loudly.

Obviously very drunk.

"Garrett!" Gwenevere suddenly shrieked so loudly, that the thief feared she would awaken Sophie.

"What?! What is it Gwenevere?"

"What's that on your face? Did you get hurt today?!" Garrett blinked, his tired mind taking a moment to remember his scar.

"Oh this?" He traced the small, diamond-shaped mark. "No, I've had it for a few months now."

"Why haven't I noticed it than? Where did you get it?"

"Umm..." The thief hesitated, not wishing to explain for a multitude of reasons.

The foremost being, he did not want to upset Gwenevere, by mentioning her mother again.

"Garrett?" She pressed him.

"I...I got it while I slept. I had a nightmare Gwenevere. About your mother. She attacked me, and when I woke up, the wound was still there."

Her reaction, was far from skeptical and hurt. In fact, it bore much closer resemblance to utmost horror.

Very softly, Gwenevere gathered herself and spoke.

"So, you're telling me, that my mother inflicted a physical wound on you from a subconscious realm?"

"If you mean a dream, then yes."

Gwenevere got up from the couch and rushed over to him. Falling to her knees, she suddenly embraced him in her arms.

"Garrett, this is really, really bad."

"Oh? How so?" He patronized her with a sly grin.

The young woman met his bemused gaze, with a far more serious expression.

"She laid a curse on you! I don't know what my mother has against you, but trust me; this will not end well!"

Garrett's eyes widened, and his face contorted in fear.

Then, reasoning that this was beyond impossible, he gathered himself and started to laugh.

How could Viktoria possibly put a curse on him? She was dead.

"It was just a dream." He scoffed.

"A dream that could easily turn reality if we don't do something!" Gwenevere countered.

Garrett ran his index finger around the healing stab mark.

_ Do all nymphs have such a flair for dramatics? Because the two I've met are thespians in their own right..._


	51. Chapter 54

A brass phonograph sang its depressing tune for the three souls within the vicinity of the dimly lit bedroom. Aldous, Simmons, and Heleana sat around a mahogany table, playing a late night game of poker.

"Raise." Heleana smirked, dropping her shiny gold and sapphire bracelet into the center of the table.

Both men looked at her, and then back to each other. A crocodile grin was plastered widely across the devious blonde's face. Almost unnaturally contorted. Aldous pondered his next move carefully. He'd played a lot of poker, and he considered himself adept when it came to spotting a bluff. It was clear to him, that Heleana was not bluffing.

"Fold." He sighed, slamming his cards to the table with a loud sigh. Heleana licked her lips in conquest.

"Well that's one. What about you Vlad? Are you in or out?"

"I'm not about to lose even more money to you Heleana."

"Suit yourself sweetie..." She watched as Simmons revealed his hand. "Hmm, yes. That is a good hand."

"Four of a kind. Beat that."

"With pleasure Vlad." Heleana spread her cards just below her burgundy lips. "Straight. Flush." She whispered huskily.

"Damnation woman!" The lord cursed, watching as she teasingly replaced her bracelet before gathering up the rest of the payout waiting for her on the table.

"Ah-ah! A gentleman never swears." She waggled a finger at him. Simmons looked away, crossing his arms.

"Well, as you know, I'm no gentleman!"

"Only too well. Only too well." She laughed. "That was fun boys, fancy another round?"

"I can't afford another round with you." Aldous answered. "Honestly Heleana, one would almost think that you were a robot or something, the way you win every single time!"

"What can I say? I'm just that good." She shrugged with false innocence.

"Speaking of good, you really outdid yourself with those metal beings. The city didn't know what hit it!"

"Yes, it's only a matter of time now, until we find that troublesome daughter of yours Vlad."

"Who would have thought that Garrett was in the center of town just waiting for us all this time?" Simmons mused. "How were you able to track that thief down so quickly anyway?"

"Oh, it was very simple." Heleana pursed her lips. " You see, the book Garrett stole from the ancient Keeper library for Aldous here contained some forgotten knowledge that I knew I should program into my metal beings. The Keepers used to train assassins, called Enforcers. The Enforcers were an elite group of Keepers, who were sent to complete only the most dangerous of tasks, including assassinations. By using glyph magic, they were able to augment their awareness, and developed the ability to use telepathy. This ability also allowed them to be able to track down other Keepers as well; as our dear little thief can more than attest to.

"I don't get it. What does all this riff raff have to do with your latest creations Heleana?" Aldous stroked his wooly salt and pepper beard.

"Men." She rolled her eyes. "Using that book he stole for you, I was able to break down the magical properties of the recorded glyph spell into a mathematical formula to be programmed into my metal beings. Basically, they now have the power to track Garrett, whenever, and wherever necessary."

"But how?" Simmons questioned.

"I just told you. Garrett, used to be a Keeper." Heleana's eyes burned a fiery hazel. "Which brings me to my next bit of news. I know where Gwenevere is." Her announcement nearly caused Simmons to topple out of his chair.

"What?! Where?!"

"Why, isn't it obvious?" The blonde giggled mockingly at her lover. "The thief has her. If you want her back, if you want to find Garrett, then you're gonna be requiring the aid of my metal beings."

"What is it that you need me to do Heleana?" Simmons leaned forward on the table.

"Let my metal beings tear apart the city, so that they can find Garrett and Gwenevere."

"I don't know Heleana, that's a tall order. You've already gotten me in enough trouble when you helped Aldous's Graven torch the city last week." Heleana stood, and walked over to Simmons, shaking her hips as she did so. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she traced her fingernail up his neck to his ear. The lord shuddered.

"Ooh, don't be like that baby! Northcrest is old, and crotchety-"

"-and also dead." Aldous butted in. Simmons stared at him, whist Heleana merely grinned her sadistic smile.

"W-what?! When did this happen?!"

"You really don't get out much, do you?" Heleana chided.

"During the fire, I had some of my men riot on his manor. He had...something that belonged to me. And I desperately needed it back. The old coot never saw it coming."

"You know, we're supposed to keep each other informed about things like that. Nice of you two to tell me!" Simmons retorted, perturbed.

"We thought it would be a nice surprise..." Heleana twirled a strand of her hair around her fingers. "Let's just forget all about that mean old man for now. After all, his undoing means that you're one step closer to gaining control over the entire city. All you need to do in order to achieve that power, is help me. If I get what I want, then you'll get what you want Vlad."

Gwenevere finished tying back her ruby hair into a wavy ponytail, and fastened the belt around her waist. There was a rabbit fur pouch attached to one of the four silver loops, which contained her readied spore grenades. She straightened her knee-high leather boots and prepared herself mentally for the night ahead.

It was here. The moment that she had been training for over the last several months.

Part of her test was to pick the location where her mission would take place. Gwenevere had chosen to target the head building of a rich industrialist, named Richard Mason. Mason had a payment scheduled to be sent out to the city sheriff; a bribe to keep them quiet over the many shifty dealings he kept with underground mercenaries, as well as the severe mistreatment and lack of pay of his workers. The vigilante in training planned on taking the bribe money, and giving it instead back to its rightful owners; the poor.

Understandably, Garrett didn't like the idea of Gwenevere working in such close proximity to the sheriff. He was a wanted man, and she wasn't exactly being ignored. But since the job in question would take place in the foundries rather than the city watch station, the thief decided to allow it.

But he would be keeping a close eye on her.

MASON INDUSTRIES

11:00 PM

Gwenevere's body was silent, her eyes like that of a great cat waiting in the shadows to strike.

A large, armor clad guard lumbered past, humming to himself in an upbeat, yet obviously board manner. The young woman clutched at her fur pouch, ready to throw one of her grenades, if necessary.

Fortunately, the guard ventured past without so much as casting his eyes into the bushes where she lay in wait. It seemed to Gwenevere that there wasn't a single member of the city watch who took their job seriously.

She sighed, glad nonetheless that he had passed her over. Slinking out of the brush and closer to the main building, she continued her infiltration.

Gwenevere unfolded a rather detailed floor plan that Garrett had somehow managed to get his hands on. According to the map, she had just past through the front yard of the rendering part of the factory, and the main building was still quite a ways ahead.

She would need to make it up to the second floor, and then sneak into Mason's office where the bribe was no doubt being kept for deposit with the sheriff, come morning. Gwenevere stared at the map in her trembling hands, her face seemingly lost.

"Let's see. If I go through this door, then I should end up in the back room, where all the repair tools are located." She reasoned quietly to herself. "From there, I could ascend the stairway that would be on the right, then head up to Mason's office. Seems simple enough!" She grinned, folding up the parchment and replacing it back within her pack.

Garrett watched in quiet disdain as his eager protegé dashed across the brightly lit courtyard, causing one of the watch's Alsatians to go off.

"Taffing girl. If I've told her once, I've told her a thousand times..." He frowned. With that, the disappointed thief leapt from his hiding place atop the brick wall.

Gwenevere's control of tonight's heist, was now over.

The factory's iron doors eased open with a low creak. Gwenevere tiptoed inside, scanning the room cautiously for any signs of trouble...

From behind, the door suddenly closed by itself, and the young woman found herself blanketed in darkness. She nearly screamed as a pair of hands found her mouth and waist. Instantly, she was spun around by an unexpected strength. The next thing Gwenevere realized, she was staring up once more into the domineering, judging eyes of her thief.

One glimpse into his infuriated expression was enough for her to know that she had already failed her test.

"What the hell did you think you were doing, running out into the open like that?!"

"You...were following me?!" Gwenevere pushed his hand from her mouth, her expression twisted with both embarrassment and anger.

"Of course I was following you! This was a test, not a solo job. Did you honestly think that you were ready to do this on your own yet?!"

"Yes. I figured that's what all the training was for." She snapped, catching Garrett off guard. Gwenevere didn't get mad often, and it still both amused and surprised him when she did. And she wasn't over yet. Crossing her arms, the little nymph continued her tirade. "And for your information Garrett, I had it all under control. I'm gonna head through-"

"-The dog saw you. He started barking after you ran out into the streetlights."

"He was just saying hi!" Gwenevere retorted. Garrett gawked at her.

"Saying-" He threw up his arms and shook his head in disbelief. "Gwenevere, listen. That dog wasn't your friend. He's a trained mutt ordered by the city watch to keep a lookout for intruders. Like you. Those dogs are vicious Gwenevere. The watch actually sharpens their fangs, and trains them to go for the throat."

"Oh come on Garrett! I'm a forest nymph, remember? No animal would ever hurt me!" Gwenevere proclaimed, still completely oblivious to the danger she had just put herself in.

"Light and speed are your enemy. Getting somewhere faster is often the easiest way to die." Garrett countered. Spotting an open window, he peered out and discovered the guard from earlier, sure enough, looking around the canine's cage. "And by the way, it looks as if your new 'friend' just sold you out." Gwenevere peeked out, almost in disbelief.

"Where'd he go boy? Where'd he go?" The guard spoke in baby-talk to the hulking tan and coal colored beast within.

"Well whoever it was, they couldn't have gone far," An approaching female guard added, tossing the dog a strip of rancid meat. She then began issuing commands. "Alright. You continue to patrol the yard. I'll take Checkers here and infiltrate the warehouse over yonder. Mason said there was a fat sack of gold locked up in his safe tonight, and I'm not about to let some random thief make off with it. If those workers talk to the wrong people, we could lose more than just our jobs."

"Right away mum!"

Garrett's eyes narrowed as the female guard pulled out a six foot leather leash and attached it to the Alsatian's collar. As she opened the cage for the dog, the thief began to move away from the window and into the confines of darkness, pushing his apprentice along with him.

"Go." He stared blankly ahead as Gwenevere's legs clumsily fought to keep up.

"But Garrett, I-"

"Now!" He commanded in a voice resembling a deep growl. He had been though enough of her pleading and whining for one night.

The two had just reached the winding metal stairway when the thief heard the metal door slam. Quickly, he moved Gwenevere underneath, and waited for the guard and her canine to make their rounds. Time slowed to an excruciating crawl, and the footsteps were only growing louder. Garrett tensed, holding both Gwenevere and his breath.

It wasn't the she-guard he was concerned about. It was her companion. While they could present a bit of challenge to evade, at least they didn't have the acute nose of a canine.

And the seasoned thief was well aware that Checkers, as he was affectionately named, had already picked up on their scent.

Gwenevere was seething with unpleasantness at being caught in such a novice mistake. The determination and eager thrill that had existed within her even minutes ago, was now all but vanquished. Now, she felt stumped. Defeated. Utterly useless.

That was, until those foreboding voices began again...

The little nymph fought harder than ever before to silence them. She desired nothing more than to be human. To be normal. To be with Garrett. And normal, good girls did not use magic.

Then, a shocking realization caused her body to shudder with a frigid chill.

Normal good girls also, did not steal.

They were tailors, maids, mothers and cooks. They could even be battle-hardened warriors, such as the female guard that pursued them now. But they were not thieves. For the first time since meeting Garrett, Gwenevere gave him a questionable stare.

He noticed, but he did not speak to her. Instead, Garrett watched as the dog came closer to their hiding spot beneath the stairway. Checker's nose was making loud, sniffing noises now. He was closing in.

Again, the voices screamed at Gwenevere, and again, she held her hands to her ears and tried desperately to ignore them. But she couldn't. Garrett looked around anxiously. He knew that he had to get past that damned dog. Somehow. Time was running out. Looking up, he saw the guard stick her head out and look around.

This was his chance! Taking out his blackjack, he swung the weapon into her face. The guard barely had time to yell out as the nymph's vines sprinted up from the stone floor, crumbling heavy brick to dust in their wake.

"Gwenevere! What are you-" Garrett began, but was rendered speechless as a thick green vine grabbed the injured guard up by the throat and threw her out the open doorway. Checkers barked and ran off after his screaming mistress. The thief was dumbstruck. His mouth gaped as Gwenevere summoned another vine out of the ground. This one weaved its way through the iron handles of the factory's double doors, binding them shut.

"C'mon! Let's get this over with!" She called to her teacher, already rounding the metal stairway. Garrett gathered himself and followed suit.

Questions and punishment would have to wait. For now, getting out of the building safe and alive was all that mattered. And thanks to his pupil's latest show of power, that wasn't going to be easy anymore.


	52. Chapter 55

Slamming the sturdy door behind him, trapping the unruly thrashing plant life behind, Garrett looked down at Gwenevere and scowled.

"What...did you think you were doing?!" He panted, temporarily out of breath from both shock and running.

"Saving us, that's what." Gwenevere retorted, still flustered by her failure.

She knew that she was still learning. She could understand if Garrett needed to monitor her for the first couple of missions. That would have been fine.

But deliberately interrupting her test, just in order to tell her that she failed?

"Curb your tongue girl. I don't wanna hear it." The thief snapped. "Your little garden party down there nearly cost us our lives!"

"I wouldn't have needed to do that, if you hadn't interfered!" The nymph continued to protest.

Normally, she wasn't this assertive. But whether it was the uncomfortable epiphany regarding Garrett's profession, or the fact that she had been caught in such an obvious blunder, Gwenevere was enraged.

Garrett just stared at her. His teeth clenched as his brows began to furrow. Eyes that had witnessed sights forbidden to most mortals now caged her; and when the Master Thief spoke, his voice was low and level.

"Interfered?" He inched closer to her. His hooded form cast a sinister dark shadow over her, and instantly, Gwenevere realized her latest mistake. Even the wood beast within her seemed to shudder in wake of the imposing rogue. "If I hadn't of aborted your selfless little conquest, you'd be dog meat right now. And don't even try to give me any of that 'he wouldn't hurt me, I'm a nymph' garbage. I've seen mutts chew grass...they would have-"

"-alright! I get it! You win!" Gwenevere burst into tears. She felt as they pierced her long eyelashes and slid down to meet her flushed cheeks. "I know I messed up. I know what I did was stupid..."

"Then why the hell did you do it Gwenevere?!" Garrett grunted, still trying to find a way out of the storage room they now found themselves in.

"I was just so excited. This was my first real chance to impress you; to show you how much I love and respect you. I...I wanted to make you proud..." She sniffed.

The thief's eyes widened at her sweet words. He started to smile, to tell her how much he already was. But the situation at hand, the danger both he and Gwenevere were now in, refused to allow it. He snapped out of the moment and continued to leer down at her; and whatever trace of a smile his stubbled face had begun to sprout, all but disappeared.

"You need to get one thing clear, and you need to get it clear now. What I am teaching you to do; it gets a lot of people killed in this city. I've seen a lot more death than I care to attest to Gwenevere, and I don't want to see you recklessly endangering yourself. Especially if you're just showing off to me..." His eyes shone with a deep longing, the memory of Erin's fall reopening his subconscious memories like a fiery sword through supple flesh. "Not many people can do this sort of work, and live to a ripe old age. To tell you the truth, sometimes I have doubts that even I will. Times have changed, and I'm no longer the unseen face in the night I used to be. Everyone knows my name now. But I'll tell you this; I'm not going to be doing any dying tonight, and neither are you."

"Through here! They're in the storage room on the second floor!"

The female guard from earlier's voice tore at Gwenevere's eardrums. Garrett scanned the room, grinding his teeth in frustration. There were only two ways out of said room; back the way they'd come, into the tangled mess of overgrown forest, or out the iron double doors that the two guards were no doubt planning to use within moments.

Hurrying away from his apprentice, Garrett tugged at the bent metal handle of the door he had slammed. To his astonished horror, it broke off in his hands, and dissolved into a fine powdery rust.

_Damn! I'd forgotten what nymph spells do to inorganic material... _

He swept his hand to the side, letting the particles descend to a worried Gwenevere's feet. But the girl didn't notice as they fell. Her attention, was directed upwards. Noticing this, the thief decided to inquire as to why her eyes were glued to the ceiling, rather than the job at hand.

But before he could open his mouth, he saw it.

An air shaft, roughly three feet in diameter, much larger than the cramped shafts Garrett was used to sneaking through in other parts of town. In truth, he had never seen one quite this large before, and he began to wonder just where it led.

"There."

Normally, the seasoned thief would have taken a moment to make sure the area was safe for traversing, via scouting orb, or a well-aimed fire arrow. But there was no time for any of that now. The guards somehow, knew exactly where they were. Taking a deep breath, he lifted her up and assisted her decent into the mouth of the shaft. Gwenevere turned around and offered down her hand.

But as soon as she reached for him, the double doors swung open, and the two guards and their dog burst inside.

"Gotcha taffer!" The male guard hollered, producing his quiver.

"Garr-" Gwenevere opened her mouth to yell, but in the process she slipped and tumbled backwards down the slick metal. The last thing she saw before falling, was Garrett facing his three attackers, flash bomb in tow.

She could only hope that he would be alright as she plummeted helplessly into darkness...

NORTHCREST MANOR

ONE YEAR AGO:

Gwenevere slowly opened her eyes. The dust was just starting to settle all around her. She lifted herself to her knees, her head still spinning from the roof collapse.

She could hear the Baron shouting, smell the stench of death in the air.

"Where is it?! Where the bloody hell did it get off to?!"

Poking her head up over some of the rubble, her green eyes could make out her father and Aldous, both who seemed unharmed, save for some bruises and small cuts.

Her pupils contracted in terror at what she saw next, however.

Of all those present at for the Primal ritual, only the three now standing before her had survived the catastrophe. The rest lay motionless, some crushed under heavy chunks of marble, others had been impaled by the large shards of broken glass from the collapsed ceiling.

"What happened?" She moaned aloud. Still far too shaken to stand, Gwenevere began crawling through the rubble. Besides, if Simmons couldn't see her, perhaps he would forget why she was there in the first place. The young woman had only gone about five feet, when she beheld something that would forever scar her tortured mind.

Lying amidst the destruction and chaos, were the tangled remains of a dark clothed man.

As the men in the background continued to search for the missing Primal Stone, Gwenevere quickly approached the mysterious stranger, growing more wide-eyed the closer she got.

"By the Trickster Himself..." She gasped, cupping her hand to her gaping lips.

At first, Gwenevere was sure he was dead. His body was slumped in such an unnatural position, illustrating that several of his bones were badly broken. His eyes were sealed shut, his scarred face a pale grey, and there was a copious amount of blood pooling from his grimacing mouth. She touched him, taking some of the blood away with her fingertips. The unexpected coolness of her flesh caused the man's upper lip to twitch, before he closed it again with a miserable, raspy groan.

"Where the hell is Gwenevere?! If anyone can sense and find the Primal, it's her!" Simmons was yelling furiously now, and Gwenevere dared not turn around for fear that he would notice her. "Look! Here's that little bitch thief! I've just gotten through searching her; she doesn't have it! It must have gotten knocked off the table when she fell!"

Gwenevere focused her attention back on the injured man. A bitter guilt tore away at her heart. No doubt that other person, that girl, was a companion of his. Their intervention had inadvertently aborted the ritual, hence saving the city; as well as her life. Gwenevere, was beyond indebted to the both of them for such an act; intentional or not.

But as much as she wanted otherwise, Gwenevere knew that she could only save one of them.

Holding out her hand to the stranger's chest, Gwenevere's fingernails produced their thin, lazor points. The precise nature spell sliced effortlessly through the torn leather cape that restrained the man under a weighty piece of rubble. Once free, his limp body fell away and collapsed onto the floor, where he began to go into shock.

Gwenevere desperately fought back the panic. If she didn't do something, and fast, this man was going to die.

Summoning all of her hidden strength, the nymph focused her mind for invisibility. As the world around her became a misty, hazy realm of lonesome blue, Gwenevere closed her eyes, and allowed the darkest corners of her mind to come forth.

Once the Wood Beast had consumed her, Gwenevere gingerly lifted the broken thief up within her jaws, and carried him from that place as fast as she could sprint. As much as she wanted to, she knew that she couldn't heal him herself. Simmons still possessed the Tricksters Foresight. He still held control over her.

An unrecodized sadness filled the demonic face of leaves and ivy. But as it did so, an idea came to mind. Gwenevere couldn't help this man; but she at least knew someone who could...

The great bear/wolf monstrosity lumbered into the decaying skeleton of an old cathedral, the early morning mist coating her verdant grass pelt in a fine dew.

As her wooden paws ceased to tread another step, an elderly woman with ghostly white hair shakily stood from her chair. Two men ushered her, as she attempted to approach the great beast before her. She was blind, but not oblivious to the fact that a goddess now stood before her.

"Greetings, child of the Woodsie Lord. What manner of guest do you bring with you?" The cackled glee of the wise old woman was like music to Gwenevere. She hadn't heard this voice in so many years.

"Nana. It's great to see you again." The young woman smiled, dropping her disguise.

The wood beast vanished into a saffron burst of pollen, and the wounded thief dropped softly to the wet earth of the cemetary.

"And you too, my dear one."

The Queen of Beggars, as she was now recognized, smiled. In days gone by, she had been known by another, less flattering name. Before she had lost her vision. Before Simmons had kicked her out of his services, stating that she was now useless to him. But that name, was no longer of any importance to her. Or anyone else. Her white eyes scanned the young woman, alive for the first time in half a decade with hope.

"You managed to grow up nicely without me, despite that wretched goat Simmons." She grinned.

"I did my best." Gwenevere smirked right back. Her carefree recollections of the past did not last long however. Casting her green and golden gaze back down to the man she had rescued, her youthful face bared a forlorn and hardened scowl. "Nana. This man...I-I need you to help him. He's dying, and I-"

"Shhh. Say no more child, I know you would do so if you could. He will be looked after most throughly, I swear it." The elderly woman comforted.

With the aid of her two helpers, the elder squatted before the man, and traced the outline and contours of his distant expression. As her hands found, and felt the false eye bulging below the right lids, her face grew worried.

She had known his face; seen it.

For this man had been no stranger to robbing the uppercrust manors where she had once found a living as a nanny.

"This one...where did you find him Gwenevere?"

"There was...an incident at the baron's manor late last night. He and his companion...they fell through the roof." The Queen turned her dead eyes back on the thief.

"Interesting indeed..."

Gwenevere bent down and held her ear to his chest. To her utmost terror, she found that his breath was shallow, and it was becoming more so by the second. Suddenly, the man convulsed. His left hazel eye rolled up into its socket, while the right remained strangely shut. He gurgled up a small amount of blood. Gwenevere did not hesitate. Pressing her palms into his slowing heart, she began to absorb as much of the unpleasant injuries as she could. The sharp, crunching pain of broken ribs resided within her chest, causing her to cry out. Her eyes filled with determination and tears.

As Gwenevere removed her hands from his chest, his body seized once, before falling limp into her arms. Now teary-eyed with relief, Gwenevere watched as his chest began to rise and fall smoothly. His breathing was deep and relaxed, and she felt as his body began to warm against hers.

"What happened to him?" The Queen of Beggars asked, aware enough of her surroundings to know what Gwenevere had just done.

"I-I'm not entirely certain..." Gwenevere stood. She studied the soft cyan light of early morning as it resided upon the resting man's peaceful face.

"But one thing's for sure...he's got to be the most stubborn bloke in this city to have survived."

PRESENT DAY

MASON INDUSTRIES

2:00 AM

Gwenevere winced in agony as she limped around the back alley of the industry building. The shaft had turned out to be a garbage chute used for the disposel of unwanted machine components. Gwenevere had landed in a rubbish heap outside the building, and gone off instantly in search of Garrett. Along the way however, she had been spotted by a third guard. Gwenevere had managed to render him unconscious via one of her spore grenades, but not before he had taken a nasty swing to her shoulder. Her blood hadn't been tainted; this time at least. Unlike the Thief-Taker General, the watch did not taint their steel with debilitating poisons. But her injury still hurt, and being especially weak to manmade weaponry, it was bleeding excessively.

Had her mind not been racing, or her heart not pumped with adrenaline, Gwenevere might have noticed the shadowy form lurking just beyond the hedges.

With a pain-filled groan, she plowed into the hooded figure. A red haze filled her eyes as she struggled to focus upon just who or what she had collided with.

"Gwenevere? Is that you?" Her eyes gazed upwards towards the source of the youthful male voice.

"Dawson?"


	53. Chapter 56

From where she was standing, the young man seemed to be brimming with kindness and pure intentions. The factory lights were at his back, illuminating him in a foggy glow. Dawson took a few moments to take in the forgotten and wasted beauty before him. While he couldn't be sure, by the dark clothing she wore, and the anxious look of desperation upon her pale face, he was under the impression that she was in some sort of trouble. And by the look of the bulging sack of loot at her waist, and the sword wound to her upper arm, it was a predicament that she had caused.

The leader of the Growers gave a miffed expression, although his eyes twinkled with intrigue. The entirety of the situation just seemed too unbelievable. With one thrash of her verdant tail of ligneous shadows she could snuff out the smoke and corruption from this foul city. Her jaws could crumble the very foundations of this wretched place to make room for her children, the sprouts of new life, to take root.

But no. The Last Mother; a beast beyond measure in terms of both power and ability, was for some reason involved in petty theft.

"Yes, it is I. Are you alright Gwenevere?" The nymph clutched her wound tighter, and he watched as thin sprouted vines began to hold the bleeding injury closed; allowing her flesh to reknit.

"I think so..." She grunted through her teeth as the worst of the pain passed into memory.

Casting her green eyes at him again, she crooked her head. Dawson stood frozen; captivated by the way the faintest glimmer of street lamps caught the golden flecks within her irises, causing them to dazzle and glow like a great cat. Even the sound she made as she inhaled to breathe was reminiscent of an untamed animal.

"Gwenevere? Are you in some sort of trouble?"

"Sorta." She began to scan the foundry district worriedly. It had been close to twenty minutes now, give or take, and still no sign of Garrett. A shiver ran down Gwenevere's spine. What if he was still inside the building? What if the guards had captured him?

"Gwenevere, if I may be so bold, I want to talk to you about something." Dawson began to walk towards her.

"I-I don't really have the time. I'm looking for someone."

"Yes, but this is extremely important!" He protested as she turned away.

Gwenevere's eyes flew open in surprise. He assumed without even knowing, that what she was doing was of less value than what he had to say. That Garrett's safety didn't matter where his words were concerned. Taking a deep breath to suppress the anger and violence within her, she glared over her shoulder at Dawson.

"So is this."

"Oh, n-no m'lady, forgive me! That wasn't what I meant!"

"I need to go. My-"

"-Just one moment!" He persisted. Gwenevere spun around, and crossed her arms. She was sore, scared, and her beloved thief was possibly injured or even dead. She was in no mood for this man and his dramatics.

"One...moment..." She hissed.

"Gwenevere." Dawson gulped. "When I first encountered you back in the forest, I thought you were just some random peasant from the city. But something about you left an imprint on me, and that imprint didn't feel right. I knew there was something more to you, the girl with the golden eyes. Something that I had read about in my father's books. And sure enough, there was. You are the Last Mother Gwenevere; the Pagan Goddess of legend." Arms still crossed, the young woman's lips quirked slightly at his obvious statement. But even if it was obvious, the nymph within her still wanted to have a little fun.

"How would you know that? You could have me mistaken with someone else." She argued. Dawson smirked at this.

"You think that there are many goddesses simply wandering around this putrid city? Even if I had no prior knowledge to your roots, that yellow blood would give you away. I know what you are, and so do you. You are the Last Mother. You, are our goddess. And I would like to extend a plea to you, m'lady."

"Yes?"

"Will you come back to the Growers with me? Together, with your power we could do great things for this place. You are our goddess Gwenevere. And as such, our motives shall reflect those of your heart and desires. We would be at your command, and we would do whatever you ask of us. I have been watching you Gwenevere, and I can tell that you have grown very fond for this place. I can see that you struggle on a daily basis with what you are. Who you are..." His words unknowingly burned her. Gwenevere touched her chest, the stresses of this one night were more than she had been faced with in weeks. Temporarily forgetting what she was even doing in these smokey alleys of filth and grime, she locked eyes with the young man before her.

"I..I don't know Dawson...I still have so many obligations and ties to the city...I can't just leave."

"I understand, m'lady. If it is truly your desire to help this place, we would be more than content to aid you in this. The Growers are the offspring of both the city and the forest. If you come back with us, you will never have to choose between them again."

Gwenevere was shocked into silence. She couldn't have spoken at that moment if her life depended upon it. She wanted nothing more since she first came to this dead city, than to breath life back into its withered confines with the powers only she had. She still wanted to do this, and until that night, she had thought stealing from the 'bad' people in this society and giving their wares to the needy was the best way to go about this. But Gwenevere had never stopped to ponder the repercussions of her actions or her current course. What if in doing so, she was endangering even more innocents? What if the wealthy victims she stole from had blamed their servants for the theft, and inevitably had them punished; or worse...

A heavy sensation of guilt and unknowing now consumed her, almost bringing her to her knees with remorse. What had she been doing?! Was this what Sophie had been trying to warn her about? Had her path unwittingly become destructive and skewed by her innocent intentions and blissful unawareness? Gwenevere didn't like the surge of emotion and thought now threatening to overflow within her head. Was there a better, safer way to complete her goals of saving the city? Did this Dawson hold the keys to them?

"You would really want to help the poor of this city with me?" She asked, her tone soft and shy, almost disbelieving. Taking this as a sign that she was considering accepting his offer, Dawson's face began to relax a bit. His eyes took on a softness that gripped at her heart.

"Not just the poor, my sweet lady. Everyone. Every desperate hope. Every waking dream. With the aid of the Last Mother, all of this can finally be made possible. But until that day comes, the time I speak of, the Growers will need your assistance. I implore you again, Gwenevere; Will you join us, and bless our efforts with the power and wisdom only the sacred Last Mother can offer?"

"I-I would need some-" Gwenevere began, her face both serene and utterly frightened. Some part of her knew that her roots were now embedded within this place. Within Garrett. Perhaps that was why she couldn't continue.

Or perhaps it was due to the fact that Dawson suddenly fell flat on his face with a dull grunt.

Gwenevere looked up through the darkness. In her distracting conversation with the Grower leader, she hadn't noticed that the torches surrounding the factory building had mysteriously gone out. Garrett was standing in the exact spot where Dawson had once been, a look of firm concern plastered across his face. He was panting heavily, but otherwise appeared unscathed.

"There you are. Are you alright Gwenevere?"

"Garrett!" She blinked back tears and threw herself against his warm body. The thief stumbled slightly upon impact. As she squeezed however, he emitted a low groan and returned the affection.

"You know I can't always be rushing in to save you like this. You should have used your spore grenades on this taffer." Garrett reprimanded when he finally pulled himself from her intoxicating, vicelike grip.

"Oh no Garrett. Dawson isn't a threat. He's the leader of the Grower faction." The thief eyed his downed prey silently, his gaze both pensive and amused. His lips curled into a slight grin behind the confines of his mask.

"HE'S the leader of the Growers?! Tch, this guy couldn't lead a horse to water..."

The idea that this youngster was in charge of a powerful new alliance was almost comical. All the faction leaders he'd known, and more often than not, had confrontations with, had all been powerful, intimidating, and imposing. They were insidious and dangerous. There was Karras, with his plan that nearly wiped out all organic life within the city in pursuit of a maddened dream. There were the Pagans, whose plans and leaders both caused the thief's insides to scream. And then there were the Keepers and Hammerites. Even though both of these groups no longer existed, their power and influence could easily outstrip this child and his band of farmers.

Maybe Gwenevere's right. Maybe these Growers aren't a threat after all...

He should have assumed otherwise.

Garrett groaned as he struggled to undress, but the searing wound to his calf made this difficult. When he finally did manage to remove his boots and roll up his trousers, Gwenevere could see a large bite mark on his calf. It was an angry, crimson red. The dog's fangs had sliced their way through skin and muscle.

"Taffing dog..." He grimaced, gripping at his exposed calf. "This is why I'm a cat person."

Upon hearing the compliment, Pilfur mewed softly and began weaving around Garrett's uninjured leg. Kneeling down, Gwenevere began to trace the bite, delicately so as not to aggravate the wound. The thief glanced down to watch her face as she worked, wondering what she might be thinking behind that lost expression.

Garrett stayed silent as his apprentice inspected the bloody indents in his flesh. She placed her hand over the injury, feeling as the thief tensed.

"This may hurt, but it's better than having to treat this for weeks."

"Do whatever you need to Gwenevere." Garrett grunted, focusing his mind on the cobwebs across the room in order to escape from the pain. A twist of shade and green light soon emanated from the nymph's palm, and he could feel the warmth of her nature magic spreading across the tattered skin and penetrated muscle.

It took only a minute or two for the would to heal completely, and when it was completed Gwenevere sat back with a satisfied smile. As she wiped the blood from her hands, her celadon eyes trailed up to her thief's face, and he met her gaze.

"How does that feel?"

"It's numb now." He replied.

"That's normal. Sensation should return by tomorrow." The young woman informed him.

"Where were you back when I was guzzling health potions whilst trying to infiltrate Angelwatch?"

"Probably running around the forest with my-" Gwenevere suddenly stopped and cast her eyes up towards the ceiling. While he had merely been joking, any reminder of her past was painful to her. Noticing this, Garrett began to touch her shoulder, but she slipped away through a teary haze and stood. "So, how did you manage to escape the guards?" The thief frowned. She was acting...odd, to say the least. Never before had Gwenevere been so reserved and aloof around him. Even when he would have prefered it so. Deciding not to press the issue, Garrett reclined back upon the bed.

"I used a flash bomb. It took care of them, but it managed to piss the dog off something awful. I'm not sure how he managed to bite me with his eyes messed up like that. But he did."

"Well, at least you're alright. That's all that matters." The thief stared at her through his left, reopened eye. Gwenevere had also been very quiet since her run-in with Dawson, and part of Garrett was beyond desperate to know what he had told her. He hadn't threatened or attacked her, this much he knew. If he had, there was absolutely no doubt in Garrett's mind that Gwenevere would have ended his life. After her little outburst inside the factory, he wasn't convinced that she truly wanted to give up on her powers after all.

"What about you? Where did that air shaft lead?"

"It was a trash chute, actually. I landed outside of the building, and I-" Gwenevere paused, deciding not to tell him about the guard who had attacked her. She had taken care of it, and that was all that mattered. "I did manage to take the bribe money." Gwenevere pointed to the bulging coin purse attached to her belt.

"Impressive." Garrett gave her a genuine smile. Perhaps, despite her folly and overdone spell, she had managed to redeem her test after all. Only one thing still bothered him. "So, who was your friend in the alley?"

"Oh, that was Dawson. He's the one who gave me all that food last week."

"Huh. What did he want?"

"Umm...well..." Her uncertainty piqued his curiosity. He rose to a sitting position, his legs hanging over the sides of the bed. This was it. "Well, he...he asked me to join his cult."

"Of course he did. Damn factions..." He snorted. "You told him to taff off, right?"

"Well...not exactly..." She looked down at her boots, hiding her shame from him. Garrett stood, despite the numbness in his calf causing a prickly sensation to crawl up and down his leg.

"What?! Gwenevere, you don't honestly want to join those freaks, do you?"

"I-I didn't say yes, but I didn't say no either! He said that they wanted to help the city, and that I was their goddess." Garrett was beyond flabbergasted by her response.

"That's not gonna happen."

"Why not?"

"Because..." He took a moment to stare deep within her. The forest that was her eyes seemed even deeper and more uncertain than before, and this worried him greatly. "Number one; the Last Mother is a Pagan diety. Number two; it hasn't been awakened yet, you're still very much mortal. And number three; I thought you didn't want to be a goddess Gwenevere!"

"I don't but-"

"It's a yes or no Gwenevere. There isn't a maybe in this situation." He retorted harshly. "Besides, why would they want such a thing? They don't even know what you'll be like as a goddess. No one does! You might be a diety of wrath who wants for no followers. You know? The kind that just destroys everything!"

"Actually, I do know what my god form would look like."

"Really? Care to clue me in?"

"You've already seen it. The Wood Beast." He gaped at her for a moment before throwing up his arms in disbelief.

"Of course." He rolled his eyes in disgust. "Leave it to a crazy nature cult to wanna worship a demonic beast god that bites her enemies in half."

"You really don't like them do you?" Gwenevere asked, slightly bemused by how Garrett was acting. What was he so worked up over? She hadn't said yes to Dawson, and even if she did join, why would that be so bad? She could still see Garrett, still be his apprentice. Right?

"Even you aren't THAT dense, Gwenevere..." He muttered bitterly. "Just do me a favor and don't talk to Dayton and his band of farmers, alright?"

"It's Dawson."

"Whatever. Let's change the subject, shall we?"

"Sure!" Gwenevere sat down on the bed.

Garrett hesitantly joined her, and fished into his knapsack. Even though Gwenevere had gotten caught, the fact that she made it out on her own by using her training, and scavenged an impressive amount of loot in the process had convinced Garrett to pass her.

"This was your first test, and to be honest, you didn't do that badly. Sure, you hit a few snags, but you made it out alive with full pockets. We definitely have our work cut out for us in the months ahead, but with practice, I'm sure your next heist will go a lot smoother." He explained, pulling out something unseen from the sack. Gwenevere's eyes shimmered at the sight of the ancient pentagon-shaped object that had been used during her very first mission with Garrett.

The Memory Keeper.

"You seemed to really want it that night. Congratulations Gwenevere." He grinned, pressing it into her trembling hands.

"Garrett, you don't have to give me that."

"Why not? You passed your test, and this is your reward." The nymph paused, unsure if she should allow the next words to leave her lips.

"But...but didn't Erin leave this for you?" Garrett was visibly shaken by her mention of his surrogate, but he recovered via a long and unsteady sigh.

"Yes. But her memory has been haunting me. The nightmares come without cease now, almost like they're trying to tell me something. At least, that's what I'd always believed to be the case. But I now realize that this was my own emotions getting in the way of truth. And the truth is Gwenevere, I need to let go of her. I need to accept that she's gone." Gwenevere reached over, putting her arm around her mentor's stiff body, offering the only comfort that she knew he would want at a time like this.

The unspoken kind.


	54. Chapter 57

Deep in the forgotten reaches of the undercity, a pair of striking blue eyes flew open. Erin awoke with a trembling gasp. The stench of blood and death flooded her nostrils. Her body was riddled in agony, her back was on fire, and there was a deep throbbing pain coming from her left arm. She couldn't see anything; the room she was concealed in was too dark. But the screams she heard coming from deeper within the area made her skin come alive with terror.

She hung her head, defeated. It was at this point that a lesser woman would have cried. But Erin was strong. She had always been strong. She had to be.

Instead, she ground her teeth. Garrett. Did he even know that she was still alive? Had he received the countless messages she had sent him? Did he even care? She wanted to think the worst of him. Some days, the pain of her predicament became so unbearable, that she downright wanted to hate him. An instinct told her that her father figure had seen her visions, yet, why had he not sought her out? What was keeping him, if he indeed still cared for her?

The sound of a rusty iron door creaking open deleted her thoughts. Two figures emerged through the gloom, one male, the other female.

"So our pretty little thief finally decides to awaken." The latter spoke in a teasing, sultry voice that Erin had all but grown to despise. She didn't even try to offer a slanderous insult this time. She'd given up on trying to talk her way out of this dungeon.

Heleana hit an unseen switch along the wall, and the lights within buzzed and protested overhead before illuminating the entire room in a veil of sheer white. Erin was temporarily blinded for a moment, but then her eyes gradually began to adjust to the world around her.

And once they had, the young woman wished she'd kept them closed.

She was in another operating room of some kind, only this one was far from the sterile white and grey steel of the Moira Asylum. This one, looked more like a torture chamber in a state of decay. There was an 6x4 table just in front of her, made of what appeared to be wood, with four leather straps attached to it; one at each corner. There was also a tougher leather strap towards what Erin could only presume to be the top. This, was where most of the dried blood was located.

The second form that had loomed in the doorway, Aldous, stepped forward. In his hand he held a grim sight that the girl was all to familiar with by now.

A long metal syringe.

"This is the last try. If we can't get it out of her this time, we'll have to just keep her down here until we can snag Gwenevere." Erin's eyes narrowed as she fought to remember the name. It seemed that she had heard it once before, in a nightmare since blocked into the darkest recesses of her mind.

"Why not just wait then? It seems a pity to mutilate such supple white flesh after all." Heleana purred.

"Heleana, every moment the Primal remains inside of her, it becomes more and more a part of her. We've only got Simmons hear say as to if Gwenevere can remove it or not; by this point, even that might be beyond the powers of the Last Mother." The blonde gave him a look that would melt iron.

"Never, underestimate the power of the Last Mother." She watched as her words caused her companion to quake, before slapping the syringe from his hand. "Besides, I didn't come down here to play with her Aldous. I came to have a woman to woman chat with her."

The very idea caused Erin to scoff. That's when she noticed the blinking metal collar around her throat. Instantly, her mind began to race. That had never been there before, and after what she had been put through over the last year, she shuddered to think what it could be.

Noticing her unrest, Heleana smiled and walked up to where she was chained to the cold brick wall.

"So I see you're admiring the necklace I gave you. Beautiful little gem, isn't it?" She tapped Erin playfully on the nose, causing her eyes to blaze with blue fire.

"Touch me again and I'll kill you bitch!" Heleana just laughed at her bold threat.

"Oh? How so? Even with your new powers, I sincerely doubt that would be easy."

There was a mystery and paranoia-inducing uncertainty to her response. A heart-sinking feeling that made Erin think that there was much more to the statement than her captor was telling.

Erin suddenly lurched in pain as the collar erupted with electricity.

"W-what is this thing?!" She demanded. Heleana smirked.

"Oh, just a little toy of mine. Allow me to explain it to you. In the past, you were given the option of running your defiant little trap with no repercussions. This is no longer an option. From this day on, you will have no choice but to do as I say. You can start, by telling me everything you know about Garrett." Erin stared at her captor in disbelief. This new collar would ravage her of her free will.

"Are you joking!?" She asked, in a voice almost bordering on hysteria. She managed her laugh, which sounded like a mix between a scoff and a sigh. A nervous smile found her lips. She wasn't the only one to grin.

"No. I'm not." Heleana pulled out a small rectangular box with a knob and small switch. She winked at her captive, and then flipped it.

Electricity shot through Erin's body, causing her eyes to roll back in her head as the current passed through the chains that held her. After about thirty seconds of this, Heleana turned off the power. Steam wafted from the singed ends of her short black hair, and her eyes were glazed. Bringing up her chin in her hands, Heleana's lips parted.

"Come on sweetie, all I'm asking for is a little gossip. Humor me." She encouraged.

"Garrett...may have failed me...but I'm not about to fail him..." She managed bravely. Heleana pulled away, dropping her helpless victim's head, causing it to droop again. With a nasty sneer, she went for her device to shock her again...

"Heleana no! You're gonna kill her!" Aldous intercepted. For a moment, the blonde was silent. She held up the device, then dropped it dramatically for her companion.

"Fine. Have it your way." Jerking at Erin's face again, Heleana locked eyes with her. "There's more than one way to get it out of you. And I'm not talking about just the Primal."

The next day, Garrett rose from his bed late.

"Good morning." Gwenevere called from around the corner. The thief looked at her. She was dressed in a light blue night gown, and was brushing her long hair with a wooden brush.

"Gwenevere." He nodded nonchalantly. The young woman continued brushing her ruby red locks as her grin widened.

She watched Garrett polish his false eye before placing it back into the hollow socket. It didn't bother her anymore, not that it really ever had. She had just been far more curious about the scar before. But now, it seemed almost natural to her.

"Did you just wake up?"

"Yes. I had a hard time sleeping last night." He explained. Gwenevere stopped brushing her hair.

"Is it because of what we spoke of last night?" Garrett turned away, placing his hand against the bedpost. He nodded.

"More or less..." He grumbled.

"Hey, do you want to go to Sophie's apartment with me?"

"Why are you going there?"

"Because silly! My birthday is next week and I want to tell everyone! By the way, my birthday is next week." She smirked with mischief. Garrett sat up straight and blinked.

"Your...birthday?"

"Yeah. What, did you think that nymphs don't celebrate birthdays or something?"

"No, I...just never..." He looked out the window, his mind distracted once more. "I just realized that I've never even asked you how old you are Gwenevere."

"I'm gonna be nineteen."

"Uh-huh. Alright." He nodded. "Well, in that case...no. I can't go with you."

"Why not?" Gwenevere gaped, almost hurt by his decline.

"There's something I need to take care of."

THE CITY

LATER THAT EVENING:

Garrett silently walked through the shadows of Stonemarket. He was looking for something that he wasn't entirely certain was still there. Focusing his mechanical eye, he scanned the base of the burned down clock tower. That's when he spotted a faint green shard lying off in the darkest corner. A remaining piece of the Woodsie Emerald. The bigger chunks had long been scavenged by desperate vagrants and hungry mouths, but this piece, no larger than a pebble was still here. And it was all he needed. The thief picked it up, examined it thoughtfully, and gently tucked it away within the confines of his knapsack.

He turned his head up to the leaden grey skies, taking one last glance at the burned shell of the clock tower that had been his former home. A bittersweet glimmer found his otherwise forlorn and solemn expression.

"Twice in one lifetime. That's pretty bad. Obviously the Hammer's mason work wasn't as good as they made it out to be."

The small bell over the door gave a cheerful ring as Garrett entered the shop in Black Alley. The man behind the counter looked as though he had spent his entire life awake, with permanent dark circles pasted under his droopy grey eyes. A thin scar ran down the rough leathery skin of his left cheek. He looked up from his work and grinned at the thief, his wirely grey and brown moustache expanding with his smile.

"Ahh, Garrett! Been years since I've seen you mate! Where ya been?"

"Here and there."

"Yeah? Well, it's great to see you finally back in my shop. What can I do ya for?"

"Actually Raphael, that's why I'm here. I have a favor to ask."

The middle-aged man stepped forward.

"Oh?"

Garrett didn't hesitate. Reaching into his knapsack, he produced the shard of Woodsie Emerald he had picked up, as well as the small bronze ring he had recovered from the clock tower.

"I need you to use your jewelsmithing abilities, to get that stone in there." Garrett instructed. Raphael gave him a curious look.

"Well Garrett, if you of all people are getting married, I'm afraid I'll have to meet her first. She sounds too good to be true." The shady man winked playfully. The thief's eyes widened, and he hurriedly brought his thin mask up over his face.

"It's not a wedding ring. It's a birthday gift. That's all." Raphael gave him a knowing glance, shaking his head.

"Well, regardless; she must be some bird to catch your miserable hardened heart. I'll certainly see what I can do."


	55. Chapter 58

The Crippled Burrick had seldom been so alive. Sophie had even gotten some of the other barmaids to help decorate the tavern for the party. Bright streamers and colorful confetti lined the walls and tables of the otherwise depressing place. While most of the patrons didn't know Gwenevere personally, they at least knew of her, and none were about to protest to free ale all night long.

The party girl was still downstairs in Basso's hovel, making final preparations for her evening debut. Still dressed in her new outfit, she sat on her bed petting Pilfur.

"Knock knock!" Sophie's welcoming voice called from behind the door.

"Oh! Come in!" Gwenevere greeted, standing from the bed. Pilfur leapt to the floor and immediately began weaving in and out between his mistresses legs. Sophie entered, a huge smile upon her face.

"I wanted you to have my gift early, before the boys get back." She winked. Gwenevere cocked her head, confused.

"Oh that's ok. You really don't have to do that."

"Sweetie, I want to." Sophie pointed to the dark green work attire. "Here. Open it. I'm not leaving here until you do." She grinned, placing the brightly wrapped gift atop the young woman's lap. Gwenevere's eyes danced with excitement as she grasped the box with trembling hands. She traced the outline of the package, her fingers coming to rest on the large red bow. She took hold of the decoration, and pulled.

Gwenevere almost cried out in delight at what was inside the box.

It was a midlengh pleated black velvet dress. It had a low neckline and short puffy sleeves. There was also a pair of short lacy gloves and short black leather boots with golden buttons running down the sides. Although it was quite simple compared to all the ball gowns she had worn growing up at the Simmons family manor, Gwenevere thought it was the most beautiful dress she had ever seen.

"After all, you can't go to your birthday party without something nice to wear!"

Gwenevere was absolutely speechless. She looked at Sophie, before tears ran down her cheeks, and she began quietly and joyfully weeping.

"I-I don't know what to say...thank you so much Sophie!" The older woman leaned forward and gave her a gentle hug.

"Happy Birthday Gwenevere."

"Thank you."

The door to the storage room suddenly burst open, and in came Basso. He appeared to already be slightly inebriated, a bottle of wine wrapped in gold ribbon clenched tightly in his hand.

"Hey, there's my gal! Happy Birthday kid!"

"Thank you, Basso." Gwenevere smiled at the boxman. He chuckled and passed the unopened bottle to her.

"For me?" She looked confused.

"Yup. I know that we just met and all, but I wouldn't feel right not getting you a pressie on your birthday." Basso smiled.

"For gods sake Basso! What kind of a gift is that to get for a young lady?!"

"A nice one. You know how much that wine cost me?" He chuckled.

"And now it's not so much a mystery as to why you can't hold onto a woman." The younger sister rolled her eyes.

"Hey, it's alright. I like it." Gwenevere cried out, desperate to stop what she perceived to be a serious argument, rather than a bout of sibling teasing.

"See Soph? She likes it."

"You're lucky, that's all."

"Eh, yack yack yack..." Basso waved her off. Setting his sights back on Gwenevere he grinned ear to ear. "Come on upstairs when your ready Gwennie. The party can't start without ya!"

"One couldn't tell from your breath..." Sophie muttered.

Garrett sat in the darkness of the corner booth. He disliked social events, more than just about anything on earth. If not for Gwenevere, he wouldn't even be here right now.

Gwenevere. It was nearly impossible not to think about her now, and yet his dark thoughts still teased and tormented him. Try as he might, his undying love for Gwenevere could never erase the truth. This wouldn't last forever. Nothing ever did. At least, not for him.

The thief squinted his eyes and tried to focus on something else.

"Heeey Garrett! You're not wearin' a party hat!" Basso's slurred voice pulled his head from the brightly colored tablecloth. Garrett looked up at the boxman. He had a jester's hat atop his head, and a boyish grin upon his lips. Basso pointed to the hat and laughed. "Looks pretty good on me, don'tcha think? Makes me look like...a king'er somethin'..."

"The party hasn't even started yet and you're already drunk, huh? Bloody brilliant Basso." The thief murmured.

"Aww, c'mon! That's notta bad thing! This is a party; YOU should let loose, have some taffin' funfer once, ya'know?"

"Not really my thing."

"Basso? Are you tormenting Garrett again?" Sophie asked, approaching the two men.

"No...Garrett here just doesn't know how to have any fun. I'm tryin' ta get him ta relax, that's all." Basso smirked. Sophie looked her brother up and down and frowned.

"Just try to remember whose party this really is...Speaking of which, Gwenevere!"

Just as the words left her mouth, Gwenevere waltzed through the doorway of the tavern.

She was wearing her new dress. Her hair was down, as always, but it had been carefully styled and curled into vibrant and fiery waves. Garrett's jaw dropped at the sight of her. Standing before him now, she was a serene blend of nobility and nature. His eyes widened in disbelief and stark wonder.

For the first time when he looked at Gwenevere, the thief truly saw a goddess before him.

Almost hypnotically, Garrett stood and came to her side. Gwenevere blushed upon noticing the surprised stare he was giving her. The silence lasted for several moments, until finally Gwenevere cleared her throat.

"Hi." She smiled. "Do you like it?"

"You, look absolutely gorgeous Gwenevere..." He whispered.

The evening was noisy and busy, and one that Gwenevere would not soon forget. She drank to her heart's content, sang wasted melodies alongside complete strangers, and even danced upon the bar, caught up in the moment. Never before had she enjoyed herself to such an extent.

As the party finally began to wane, she found herself situated in the back booth with her thief. As she took another sip of Basso's present, she smiled and laughed as the bubbles tickled her tongue. Garrett smiled back.

"Having a good time?" He asked, watching her through watchful, earnest eyes.

"Of course I am! This is by far the best birthday I've ever had." She smirked, taking another sip.

"Easy on the wine there." He placed his hand up over the neck of the bottle as his apprentice prepared to refill her glass a third time. "Alcohol and nymphs don't mix too well." Gwenevere appeared visibly disappointed, but she nodded her head and complied.

"Alright."

Deciding that now would be a good time to give her his present, the thief reached into his pocket and produced the ring. Gwenevere's eyes flashed when she noticed the shard of Woodsie Emerald embedded within.

"Happy Birthday Gwenevere." He smirked. "I wanted to give this to you here, in secret. If Basso or Sophie knew I was giving you a ring, well, needless to say they might get the wrong idea..." He instinctively looked off into the crowd to locate the boxman and his sister. They were both on opposite sides of the large room; talking, drinking, and otherwise enjoying the festivities.

"It's beautiful; thank you!" Gwenevere gasped, tears once again welling up in her eyes.

"That ring was the very first object I ever stole. I want you to have it Gwenevere. Think of it as a...relic of my own."

"A relic? But you're not even a member of any faction I know of!" Gwenevere smirked.

"Do I really have to be? The definition of a relic, is an object surviving from an earlier time; especially one of historical or sentimental interest. This ring, was from an earlier time in my life. A time which you remind me of." His eyes danced with hers as he leaned in closer. " I see promise in you Gwenevere. I want to help you realize that promise. That potential. Listen Gwenevere. Basso and I have made some final preparations. We're...well, you and I are going to be leaving the city for a while."

"Really? Where are we going?" Gwenevere inquired. The thief pulled out a map from his knapsack and he stretched it over the table.

"There's a place called Nethalzia. It's about 70 miles away from the city." Garrett pointed out the large burg for her. "We should be safe there, until the heat dies down. Eventually, Simmons will think you're dead, and with any luck, the city watch will think the same of me. At least until I return." He grinned.

"When are we leaving?" Gwenevere asked, a bit saddened by this news. While she would indeed follow her thief to the ends of the earth and beyond, she was going to miss Sophie. And she still had undecided business regarding Dawson and his Growers.

"Probably over the next few days. The sooner the better." Putting the map away, Garrett took up her hand in his. With a gentle, forlorn expression he slid the ring up her finger. It fit perfectly. "Gwenevere. Things won't be this way forever. One day, you won't have to hide anymore."

Gwenevere's cheeks flushed a brilliant red. The wine was catching up to her now.

Some unspoken part of her already knew this.

Garrett released a pent-up sigh, his breath wafting past his face into the chilly night air. The winter months made the days in the city dismal and leaden grey. But the nights...

No one knew the beauty of these darkened streets better than he. These roofs were his highway, these alleyways his domain. The foreboding shadows blanketed him in a comfort not understandable for most, and the bell tower's mournful chimes was his unspoken symphony.

Garrett loved every solitary element of the evening. The way the moths performed their midnight dances around the flickering torchlight, the way the moon reflected against the darkened windows of the houses and shops. Or how it glimmered off the rooftops after a storm, as Gwenevere had aptly noticed that night he had taken her up to the bell tower.

This was his world. Even if he left, Garrett knew that the city would always reside within him. Despite how unforgiving and cruel she had been to him over the years, this place of metal and injustice had also bestowed upon him an identity that he could never forget.

Master Thief.

The vast expanse of diamond laden heavens were before him now; its marvels endless, its sparkling mystery eternal. His eyes mirrored each of the celestial bodies, his left widening slightly as several dimondlike stars shattered free of the velvety abyss, and careened downwards, bathing the weary world below in a glittery shower. The edges of his mouth quirked slightly. Although he would never admit it to anyone, the night sky had always fascinated him. The thought of the world being so minute and tiny in comparison to the rest of the universe; the epiphany that these stars had been here long before the first brick in the city was laid.

It filled him with wonder and amazement.

Atop the roof of the Crippled Burrick, the air was cool and had a oddly mystical quality about it. The smoke-scented air wafted past the thief, tickling his nose.

"Thought I'd find ya up here." Basso chuckled, poking his head around the balcony.

"Hey Basso."

"Mind if I join you?" The boxman asked. Garrett didn't reply beyond a simple shrug. It was enough to get Basso to lift his leg up over the railing and slowly ease his way over to where his mate was sitting, lost in thought.

Once seated, he reached into his pocket and produced a small silver flask. Garrett watched as he unscrewed the cap and brought the unseen liquor to his lips.

"Want any?" He rasped, after exhaling with satisfaction. The thief shot him a knowing look before losing himself in the sea of stars again. Basso smirked and replaced the cap.

"Where's Gwenevere?" Garrett finally broke the silence.

"Asleep. Apparently, tonight was the first time the gal's ever had alcohol. She passed out in the storage room about an hour ago." Basso laughed, looking up into the sky.

"I didn't realize that I'd been up here THAT long." Garrett mused, his eyes distant.

"You feelin' ok Garrett?" The older man inquired, scooting closer. The thief remained silent, never breaking his gaze from the mess of damp cobblestone below him. "Hey, don't worry about it! This little trip is just until the heat dies down. Besides, with the drama you've been through over the last few months, I think you could use the holiday."

"Even so, I've never left the city before Basso." The thief grumbled.

"Really?!"

"Yes, really. Surprised you even need to ask."

"I-I guess I should have known, but still..." Basso crooked an eyebrow in concern, and stared pensively at his old friend. "...never?"

"No. Never."

"Garrett." Basso stretched and exhaled a breath of hot air from his oversized nostrils. "What do you plan to do, once this is all over?" This time, his words caught Garrett's attention enough to cause the thief to look at him.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," He took another chug from his flask. "You and Gwenevere. I know that you must have plans for her by now, otherwise you wouldn't still be with her."

"It'll never be over Basso. Even when I get back, they'll still be after me. After her."

"That's not what I asked." The boxman grinned, knowing full well that his mate was dodging the question.

"You asked, what I plan to do about Gwenevere and I. My plans, Basso, are to keep her safe."

"Yeah, that kind of goes without saying though. I see the way she looks at you; the way it causes you to smile, actually smile Garrett! You know what that's called, right?"

"What is it called Basso?" Garrett groaned, rubbing his temples.

"Aww, come on! You can't be that isolated! If you want my advice, I'd say slap a ring on that gal, leave the city forever, and have yourself an actual life."

"Let me get this straight. Basso the boxman, the bloke who wrote the book on how to mess up a relationship, is trying to give me advice about this?" The thief smirked.

"Hey, if you don't want it no one said you had to take it." Basso huffed, the tiniest bit offended. "I just thought you might want to consider it is all."

"And what makes you think that I haven't?" The thief was soft-spoken, yet there was a strange sincerity, almost boldness, in his words. Basso leaned forward to get a better look at Garrett's worn face, which was obscured by his hood as a brisk winter wind caught the edges.

"Garrett?"

"I-" he sighed, running his hand up over his hood, pushing it off to reveal his unkempt dark brown hair, "I want to. That girl has bewitched me in ways I can't even begin to describe. I care about her more than I do myself. And the feelings I have for her; well frankly, they scare the hell out of me." He trailed off, looking at down at his gloved hands.

There was an angry annoyance in his voice, and Basso looked up with arched brows. His concern only intensified as Garrett began to laugh, somewhat uncomfortably.

"I know she's not helpless, trust me. I've seen her bite a man in half, seen her use dark nature magic to melt a roomful of Mechanists into bones and tar. But nevertheless, I can't even begin to stomach the thought of leaving her to face the city alone. I thought that I was in love with her mother, with Viktoria. I remember how strange it felt; having such feelings for the woman who tore my eye out. To this day, I can't possibly hope to explain them to you. This sensation just began to...fill me. And once it did, I couldn't get rid of it."

The boxman was silent, still as stone as he continued to listen intently to this forgotten tale.

"The night she...sacrifced herself..." He squeezed his eyes tightly closed, grinding his teeth. "I never thought I'd feel it again."

"But now you do, with Gwennie, right?" Basso finally intercepted.

"No. That's just it Basso. The way I feel for Gwenevere dwarfs every other sensation I've ever experienced. There isn't even a word for it."

"Could you at least describe it?"

"I'll try..." Garrett sighed again, harder this time. "I feel...like I'm her teacher, and that she's my student. I feel a strong desire to instruct her and to be both critical and proud of her. I feel like she's both dangerous and helpless. And in many ways, she is..."

"Garrett. I'm gonna be very blunt here. Do you love her?"

"What do you think?"

"You really want to know?"

"Yes."

"Well, I think that you should do what I suggested. Take her away from all of this, settle down, have a few kids. Then maybe you could finally-"

"What? Be her gallant hero? Sweep her off into the sunset? Is that what you would have me do Basso?!" Garrett demanded harshly. The boxman blinked, gawking into Garrett's intense, burning stare. "I'm a thief. I don't give, I take. I don't remain in one place for very long, I complete my transaction and leave as quickly and cleanly as possible. It's all I know..." He abruptly turned away, his body lurching in an agonized shudder. "It's why I...can't have any serious relationships. Everyone who I allow to get close to me...Erin, Viktoria. They always end up dying. I can't let that happen to Gwenevere. Better that I break her heart, than steal her life." There was a deep longing in his voice.

An unending melody of hopelessness and despair filled the tormented recesses of his longing soul.


	56. Chapter 59

_ The misty dawn's sun did not show, and the scent of cold death hung in the air around her. Gwenevere refused to be intimidated by what now awaited her. She closed her eyes, trying to prepare her mind and heart for what was to come. A hundred thoughts raced through her head; memories long since lost. Corrupted. _

_ He was the very definition of a wretched beast. The form of a large man distorted and fused with the lower half of a demonic ram. Cruel teeth protruded past sickly purple lips as his forked tongue whispered to her through the darkness. _

_"You've lain with him, haven't you?" He hissed. Gwenevere stared at his face, trembling as she did so. She dared not look him in the eyes. She was afraid of what would happen if she did. Some part of her knew that once those bottomless pits pulled her in, there would be no escape. Instead, she concentrated on the blood red pagan symbol emblazoned across the Tricksters misshapen forehead. He smirked evilly through the stale night air. "Do not attempt to dissuade me-" In that instant, he called her by name. Her real name. Before Gwenevere was all she could remember. All she could speak. She shook._

_"Y-yes."_

_"Of course you have. Manfools are so trusting, when they think the situation is within their control. This makes them easier...to manipulate. And devour." The demons voice was brimming with pure sadism. The unspeakable abomination before her broke out into deep, disturbing laughter. _

_ Distant wolves ceased their melodies mid-howl, the crickets froze to the waxy surfaces of their leafy stages, and even the wind grew nonexistent in the presence of this old god. The forest went silent in an instant. _

_ Out of both admirable respect, and deep fear. _

_ Again, the Trickster turned to her. He held out his hand, and Gwenevere could see that it was dripping with blood. The fingers were closed around something unseen, something that Gwenevere knew she did not want to see. _

_"Why did you bring me here?" She asked, eyes focusing now on the demented, dripping grin._

_"To feed you, of course. To feed...us..." _

_ Without a moment's hesitation, the double doors behind her swung open, and a tangled thorny mass of vines burst their way through. Gwenevere's face contorted in terror at the sight of the captive within their confines. _

_ It was Garrett._

_ He was alive; unconscious. He had several cuts to his exposed arms and chest from the thorns, along with two visible bruises to his face. With a trill of gut-wrenching horror, Gwenevere gaped into the hollow, lifeless socket of his right eye. While she had seen this sight many a time since first meeting the thief, this time was very different and disturbing._

_This time, the eye socket was oozing with fresh blood. _

_Gwenevere's body locked up. Her mind was still racing even as her body became catatonic. She now knew exactly what it was that the Trickster held in his clenched fist. _

_"..." He called her by name again, "finish him. Bestow the wrath of the Last Mother down upon his mortal soul." The order filled her disabled body with new drive; new life. Regaining herself, the nymph whirled around to meet that which she feared most._

_ Her heritage._

_"No! I'm not like you! I would never...could never hurt Garrett..." Gwenevere protested, although she was still petrified. The Pagan god only sneered at her statement._

_"How do you intend to deny yourself, when you do not know who it is you truly are? There is no choice in the matter. No compromise. Continue to run and you will stumble. Continue to hide and you will starve. The end is coming, and it is to be by your hand."_

_He called her name once again, before Gwenevere lost all conciousness... _

Gwenevere awoke, drenched in sweat. Her nude chest rose and fell and her heart threatened to explode from palpitations. She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head violently. Garrett was still asleep beside her, and Pilfur was at the foot of the bed, staring up at her through his luminous green eyes. A wave of sweet relief washed over her when she realized the obvious.

"It was just a bad dream..." She sighed.

Little did she realize that her own personal nightmare, was about to begin.

CLUNK! CLUNK!

A loud banging barely managed to awaken Basso from his own slumber. He squinted his eyes, and groaned in protest upon noticing that the sun wasn't even up yet.

"Aww c'mon Sophie! It's too damn early for laundry day..." He muttered loudly before rolling over.

Whatever drowsiness still clouded the boxman's judgement quickly dissipated when he felt the sharp twinge of a blade at his throat. Basso opened his mouth in protest at the sight of the killer clad in black and red garb. Their mouth and nose were concealed by a thin dark cloth, leaving only a pair of relentless blue eyes staring into those of their latest victim.

"I'm gonna make you suffer, pig..." The intruder growled, as he prepared to make the fatal slice.

He never was given the chance however, as a thick brown vine gripped him up in its coils. The man screamed as the thick grey thorns pierced his flesh. The tendril squeezed him into silence, and his dagger scuttled to the dirt floor of the hovel.

Basso took this opportunity to jolt up from his mattress.

"Garrett? Gwenevere?!" He looked around frantically for his two guests. But all he could see were more vicious vines snaking around the room. Suddenly, the front door was splintered apart by an unseen force, and a large metal being burst through. It aimed a cannon like extremity at the middle-aged pauper, and fired.

A massive explosion rocked the hovel, taking out most of the back wall with it. But not Basso. He couldn't for the life of him explain what he was doing there, but somehow, he had managed to end up on the opposite of the room, unscathed. The next moment, he found out why.

"Leave him alone you!" Gwenevere demanded as another of her vines constricted the cannon of the metal being. The extremity hissed and smoked violently, before breaking off in a searing bolt of electricity. The robotic beast seemed to hesitate for a moment, looking down at its destroyed arm. The enraged nymph used this opportunity to finish the thing off. Lacing one vine around the remaining extremity and another around the central base of the robot, she then pulled in opposite directions, tearing the metal being apart.

The robot exploded, the impact knocking Basso back through the door of the storage room. Garrett looked down at him with a concerned expression.

"And you're always complaining that I don't know how to work a door..." He mused.

"You sure picked a damn good time to develop a sense of humor." Basso grunted, struggling to stand. "We're under attack! By robots, assassins, strange plant thingies, and whatever else the world decides to throw at us."

"Please tell me you're not drunk again."

"Belive me, I really wish I was..." Before the thief had a chance to investigate what was going on, a faint rustling caused him to turn around. Another assassin was waiting for him to do just that.

His pupil contracted as a six-inch blade was thrust just below his chin.

"Where is she?" The assassin demanded. "Tell me and I'll make this quick. Otherwise..."

"Yeah, I get it. But listen..." A swift kick to the groin sent the killer to his knees. Garrett then slammed his boot into the man's chest, rendering him immobile and helpless.

Vibrant eyes of guile and glass stared down at the man who had just tried to kill him. And failed badly. "...I'm not about share secrets with assassin scum like you." He pressed his foot down harder.

"Garrett!" Gwenevere's voice rang from just outside the room. She entered thereafter, the last of her vines receding back into her body. Upon spotting her, the assassin attempted to lurch upright, but a sharp kick to the face stopped him.

"Filthy gutter ilk! So you DO have her!"

"Yeah? And just how did you first suspect? Simmons? Perhaps Heleana?"

"I'll never tell you that!"

"He's with Simmons. He's one of his paid assassins." Gwenevere concluded. Garrett looked at her and grinned.

"Looks like you won't have to do the talking after all."

"Yeah. I belive you should be thankin' the nice gal for that, don't you?" Basso finally summoned enough courage to address the assassin directly.

"You just wait; this isn't over! You'll both be hung! Quartered! No one kidnaps Master Simmon's daughter and lives to tell the tale!"

"Oh? So this has happened before has it?" Basso goaded him.

"Well no, but if it had-"

"Save it. We get it." Garrett growled.

"You have to kill him. He's gonna tell Simmons about you! About me!" Gwenevere exclaimed.

"I suppose she's right, isn't she?" The thief glowered down at his captive. "Unless you're willing to be useful, that is."

"Ok, I'll talk! I'll tell you anything you need to know!" The assassin broke down. "I'm as good as dead if I return to Simmons empty-handed anyway."

"Good. We understand each other. Now start-"

Garrett's interrogation was cut short by a blast of icy shock. The assassin's eyes contracted once, growing bloodshot before closing for the last time. The thief glared down at him, confused. That is, until he realized just what had happened.

"Gwenevere! Why did you kill him?! We could have used his information to figure out what Simmons is up to!"

"It doesn't matter."

"What do you mean it doesn't matter?!" Garrett hollered. Basso looked between them, his face both concerned and awkward.

"Umm, did I miss a step? When did Gwenevere, learn to brutally murder people?!"

"Oh, I've always known how to do that!" The young woman smiled, not catching the obvious hint of discomfort in the boxman's words.

"Uh-huh. So why exactly do you two need to hide out at my place again? From what I've just seen, you ain't exactly in any peril here."

"I'm trying to get her not to do that. Using dark nature magic like that awakens the demon side of her. Gwenevere voiced a very strong desire to rid herself of this abomination. But apparently, she's having second thoughts about the whole thing." Garrett snarled, crossing his arms.

"What would you have me do Garrett? Just sit around and let those men kill you and Basso? Let that metal creature destroy his home? Sometimes I have to use my powers. If I didn't then we'd all be dead!"

"Funny thing is that if you hadn't come here, then neither would they." Garrett quipped without thinking.

A deep, very visible hurt spread out across Gwenevere's face. Her eyes grew glassy and wide and her posture slumped in defeat.

"W-what are you saying?" Garrett began to retort again, but Basso intervened by bringing up his hand to halt his mates poorly chosen words.

"Nothing he's gonna regret later, I'll make sure of that hun." Garrett scowled at him, but the boxman stood firm. "Listen, we've all had one hell of a morning, there's no denying that. People were killed, things were said. But Gwenevere, Garrett here was right about one thing; you two need to get a move on. Listen, I've got a pal of mine looking into safe transport to Nethalzia. But until then, I think we can all agree that it's far too dangerous for you two to remain in the city a moment longer. So, I'd like to offer you a decent alternate to my humble abode. Moria Island." The mention of the haunted old building sent shivers down Garrett's spine.

"Moira!? Basso, that's crazy. There's nothing there but that old asylum. No food, no water-"

"-no guards, no freaky hunks of metal walkin' around." Basso countered. "Trust me. It'll just be for a few days; a week tops. We'll load up a good supply of ale and food, and you two will be nice and cozy."

"It's only for a few days. It...might be fun." Gwenevere offered, although both men could tell that she was extremely uneasy for some reason.

"That's the spirit! Gather up as much stuff as you can carry and meet me down by the docks. I'll take you out there in my boat." Basso chuckled. "Oh, and Gwenevere. Hang extra tight to this one here. He hates travelling by sea."

"I've had a few really bad experiences. You would too." Garrett retorted.

"Yeah, yeah. Methinks yer just a bit seasick."

"Shut up Basso."

The city docks were as rancid as ever. The air was misty and the stench of rotten fish reeked all around them. Garrett stood on the edge of the pier, whilst Gwenevere held a nervous Pilfur in her lap, stroking him lightly.

"So, why don't you like boats Garrett?" She finally inquired. It seemed to the thief that she had been especially quite following the attack of the assassins earlier that morning. A part of him wondered if it had been what he said, and a slight twinge of guilt found his chest.

"I don't want to talk about it. Let's just say, that every time I've ever gotten onboard a nautical vessel, bad things happen."

"Oh. Sorry I asked."

"Don't worry about it." Garrett looked down into the filthy water of the harbor. His reflection seemed to tremble as much as his palpitating chest. Sophie's words still haunted him, and the discomfort of keeping such weighty secrets from his Gwenevere was beginning to seriously bother him.

"Gwenevere. There's something that I think you should know, from those days."

"Yes?" She looked up at him, her eyes playful and livid.

He didn't wish to hurt Gwenevere. But Sophie was right. She needed to know. About all of it. With an uncomfortable exhale, he faced her again.

"Gwenevere. What I'm about to say might...well, it's probably really going to bother you. But I care deeply for you, and I would feel wrong keeping it a secret. You need to know." He swallowed hard.

"What's the big secret?" Gwenevere smirked. Garrett winced. If he told her...when he told her...would he ever see her smile again afterwards? Readying himself for the worst, he began to speak.

"When I was younger I...was involved with Sophie. As well as your mother. But that was a long time ago, and I'm only telling you because I-" He never got to proclaim his love. Instantly, Gwenevere burst out into jovial laughter.

"Is that why you've been acting so tense around me lately?!"

"That's...part of it." He crooked an eyebrow, unsure why she was taking this so well. "But Gwenevere? Aren't you...upset? Even a little?" The thief asked gingerly, with genuine concern.

"Silly Garrett! I'm a nymph! We don't get jealous like you humans do. It's such a useless, petty emotion after all."

"Oh. I suppose you're right." He exhaled in relief. A brief smile found his lips. "Good to know."

Once everyone was aboard Basso's small rowboat, the boxman began to maneuver the cramped vessel out of the harbor. They paddled and drifted for a little over an hour before Garrett saw the outline of a small island in the distance.

That, was when all hell broke loose.


	57. Chapter 60

Dark clouds loomed above the three apprehensive visitors to the lonely island. Through the hazy fog, the thief stood firm. He didn't even offer a hand as Basso and Gwenevere slowly unpacked the goods from the small boat. He was lost in a world all his own, his memories screaming at him now.

Basso straightened his back with a grunt, watching as a lone osprey circled overhead. That's when he got his first real look at the Moira Asylum.

"You two be careful, ya hear? This place has gone oddly quiet since that riot. No one's sure how the whole thing started, but I'll tell you one thing; you couldn't pay me to go into that old place now. Something ain't right there no more, not that it ever was, tell you the truth." He snorted. Gwenevere hung her head in deep, unspoken remorse.

She couldn't have agreed more.

Simmons had been closely involved with the baron's many sadistic, torturous experiments conducted on the asylums patients. And more often than not, the young woman had been dragged along to further this research.

"I've tackled a ghost ship AND the Pagan Maw. I'm pretty sure I can handle a 'haunted' nuthouse." Garrett scoffed dryly.

Gwenevere kept close to her mentor's side as they hauled their supplies inland. Basso has secured the weeks supply of ale, dried meat, and hard bread in two bulky duffle bags. Garrett carried both of them, one over each shoulder.

"You sure you don't need any help with those?" The young woman asked again.

"I'm not asking, am I?" His tone was more edgy than per usual, and certainly for the way he usually spoke to Gwenevere.

"Well, alright..." She shrugged.

Instead, Gwenevere turned her sights to Pilfur. The kitten was walking along the iron fence that lined the path to the asylum. She marveled as he effortlessly trekked the thin surface, weaving around the two inch spires when they blocked his route. Gwenevere gulped down a wad of tension. Moira Asylum was the last piece of her past that she had ever hoped to see again. Not for her suffering; but for theirs.

Eventually, a large gate blocked the party's progression. Garrett grunted in aggravation, upon noticing that it was locked. He set the heavy duffels down and squatted in front of the barrier. Withdrawing his trusty set of lockpicks, he gingerly went to work. These were the first locks he had picked in over a week, and the thief was elated to be given the opportunity to work again; even if there wasn't much reward in it.

The rusty chain gave way as the lock was removed, clattering to the ground. With a powerful thrust, Garrett opened the entrance for he and Gwenevere. The asylum was a mere fifty feet away now, and it filled the thief with an air of powerful nostalgia. How long had it been again? Ten years? Fifteen? He had still been talking to the Keepers, which was long enough ago for him.

First Keeper Orland had been his usual reluctant and suspicious self, only allowing Garrett in at all due to the persistence of Artemus. From the prophecies, the Keepers had learned that a Dark Age was coming, and they had gotten the brilliant idea to send Garrett on a search for a certain lost book that could give more information about this upcoming change.

A ship called the Abysmal Gale had recently arrived at the docks, and it apparently had been connected to this new prophecy. This had led to Garrett's second bad experience aboard a nautical vessel; which had in turn led to his distaste and fear of them. After ignoring the warnings overheard from the locals and venturing aboard, Garrett discovered that the crew have all somehow become zombies. He had also found the ship's manifest, which spoke of a a golden slab that had been brought to the captain's seaside mansion. Hence his last visit to this ominous island.

The place hadn't changed much, it still managed to instill a deep feeling of foreboding dread. He craned his neck up to the stormy skies above. Rain was imminent.

"Gwenevere. We need to take shelter. Let's get inside the asylum."

"What?! Garrett, are you crazy?" She leapt back, her pupils dilating in terror. The thief merely blinked nonchalantly.

"Not the last time I checked." He retrieved the duffel bags. "Now come on."

The two started up the crumbling stone steps and proceeded to enter the abandoned building. They had ventured perhaps two steps within, when the double doors suddenly slammed shut, causing Pilfur to hiss, and Gwenevere to look around in anxious panic. She wasn't alone in her discomfort. As soon as the heavy wooden doors closed behind them, Garrett noticed the pin-drop silence. It was was so oppressive and empty, that it almost deafened him. Across the shady and dreary entryway, there was a large desk that was relatively clean and new, given the dilapidated remains of the rest of the antique structure. A chill swept down his spine.

Something was not right about this place. There were secrets here that would make even the most imposing of places he'd visited pale in comparison. As he continued to explore and reminisce, more thoughts of doubt and sadness danced upon his heart. Every piece of furniture in the mansion, from the grand piano, to the many chairs and couches scattered around the living room, were covered over with long white sheets, as well as coated in a thick layer of dust and debris.

Garrett decided to investigate the front desk, hoping to find any answers for the fear and disgust that now flooded him. As he reached the desk, Garrett pulled open the drawers and began to search. All he found in the topmost drawer was a half empty ink well, and a quill. Nervously, Gwenevere glanced out the large window on the opposite end of the desk. It was almost completely dark outside.

"Garrett. Maybe we should go back outside. It doesn't seem to be raining." She encouraged.

"Give it some time. And anyway, I'm not going back out there. Take a peak." He grinned, holding up a golden locket from one of the drawers. "This place still has some nice loot." Gwenevere shook her head and looked back out the window.

"Fine. Do whatever you want." She huffed, crossing her arms.

"Don't mind if I do." The thief replied, and went back to exploring the desk. Gwenevere watched him rummage with a sincere frown. She did not want to worry him, but there were secrets hidden here that she knew would hurt him. Secrets which she hated herself for keeping.

With a short sigh, the nymph plopped herself down into one of the dusty armchairs, the white sheet crumpling under her weight. Pilfur leapt up into her lap, and purred with contentment at her warmth. Garrett continued to search the desk. He glanced curiously at the notes and letters that were still sitting neatly atop it. Many of them appeared to be patient records, complete with detailed information about each of the troubled souls whom had once called the asylum home.

But his careful eyes could not have overlooked the name upon one such document. Garrett hungrily grabbed at the paper, and began to read it:

PATIENT NUMBER 18: Identified by both Baron Northcrest and the city sheriff as one Erin Lauryls; wanted thief and assassin. Brought in on the 16th of December, badly wounded from an apparent failed break-in via Northcrest Manor. Considered unstable and dangerous.

Garrett's eyes widened as the unexpected impact hit him like a wall of ice. At first, he tried to dismiss it. No, this was ludicrous! Erin was dead, he had SEEN her die! Perhaps it was just a patient with the same name? It wasn't long, before his suspicions were denounced; and his worst nightmares hands trembled as he flipped the page off the desk and to the floor below, revealing more documents underneath. His eyes scanned the contents of this page, and his heart sank into his knees. The physical description of patient 18 matched that of his Erin perfectly. Right down to her age and demeanor. The thief began to shake some more, his fingers vibrating violently against the papers. Noticing this, Gwenevere stood.

"Garrett? What's going on?" While her voice suggested that she was clueless, inside her heart screamed. Some part of her knew just what he had discovered.

The thief reached for another document. This one came in the form of a letter, which he read aloud.

"It pains me to confirm your enquiry, but in fact patient 18 will undergo procedure in room 3F just as you fear. I thought we'd closed the door on that room of horrors years ago..." Stale breath left his body as if for the last time. Erin was alive. Normally, this news would have delighted him; filling the weary rogue with a rare sensation of glee and joy.

But this...

A thousand questions overflowed within his head. How had she survived such a fall when he barely made it with the claw? Why hadn't the baron ordered his men to kill her after she'd been caught? Why bring her here instead?

But perhaps the biggest and by far the most disturbing question of all; what was this room 3F?! Garrett winced in parental rage. A shudder found his usually collected profile. Room of horrors? What unspeakable torture had they put his child through?!

Backing away from the desk, he started deeper into the asylum. Gwenevere plucked Pilfur from the marble floor and ran after him.

She managed to catch up to him after only a few feet. Garrett's expression was transfixed upon a locked metal door. Gwenevere trembled when she recognized which door this was. Where it led.

"These are the baron's locks...What was so important to him in an asylum?" He spoke, his smoky voice extremely edgy.

"Garrett..." Gwenevere touched his arm. "We should just go back outside."

The thief leered down at her with a look that would pierce through steel.

"Erin's alive. She was here. I need to find out why, and what happened to her. Where she is now."

"Garrett, trust me. You don't want to go through that door..." Garrett's stare on her intensified. There was something that she wasn't telling him. Something huge.

"Why not?"

"Moira Asylum wasn't just a hospital. It was...a torture chamber. The baron conducted experiments on pretty much all of the patients here. There's a treatment center downstairs, and the things they did..." Her eyes closed in hopeless remorse.

A dark sorrow overtook her, causing a single tear to leave her eyes. She would have sunk to her knees, if not for the fact that she was still holding onto Pilfur.

"Gwenevere. What's going on? How do you know all of this?"

"I've been here before. With Simmons and Northcrest."

"Why?!"

"Because I had to. Simmons still had the Tricksters Foresight. That's the name of the relic he used to command me. To control me. Someone stole it about a month before I ran away. That was the only reason I never escaped him sooner."

The thief wrapped his arm around her shoulders in silent comfort. Pilfur glanced up at him, green eyes ablaze.

"Gwenevere. I know that this must be hard for you. I have no idea what Simmons did to you. What he put you through. But if there is even a chance of Erin being alive out there somewhere, then I need to find her. And to do that, I need to know what happened to her here. Can you help me?"

The red haired nymph looked past his bi-colored eyes until she was staring into the very depths of his soul. Time flashed before her now. Every second, every memory. Every beautiful moment she had experienced with her thief. Her mentor. Her undying love. Leading him to the past, to the truth. She knew what this would result in. She knew that there was no possible way for Garrett to love for her after that. She would lose everything she cared about. But she cared about him more.

Choking back the last of her nerves and tears, Gwenevere managed a small, barely convincing smile.

"Yes."

"Do you know where room 3F is?"

"Yes."

The dark hallway was a stale, musty grey. Gurneys covered in a thick layer of dust and dried blood lined the walkway. There were several iron doors, each with a blood-red number and letter painted over the doorway. Eventually, Gwenevere lead Garrett to the door marked 3F. Before the thief could retrieve his lockpicks, she burst through the obstacle using her nature magic.

With deep remorse, Gwenevere Simmons hugged her thief for the last time, and motioned him inside.

Upon entry, Garrett instantly felt bile churning inside his stomach. Dingy grey walls covered in mold and rust decorated with scratch marks and stains were the first things to meet his eyes. There was also a small drain in the center of the floor. And just beyond the grated drain, was a large wooden chair. It was similar to the chair he had been strapped down to inside the baron's torture chamber by the Thief-Taker General. The memory instantly filled him with deep dread. What had they done to Erin here?!

He looked around wildly. There was a rusted metal tray parked in the darkest corner of the dead room, and Garrett's blood froze when he saw what it contained. Various surgical tools, syringes, and a hacksaw stained in so much dried blood that there were still a few hungry flies weakly swarming over it.

Instantly, his eyes returned to the chair. That's when he noticed how taut the leather strips around the arms of the chair were; the bronze buckles almost torn away. The wood around said straps was covered in frantic clawmarks. The last resort of the poor soul who had been forced in that chair, and thus fallen prey to the sadistic torture of these butchers. And Erin, had been one such victim.

Garrett felt as his knees turned to rubber. He felt as all strength left him. His arms fell helplessly to the sides of his body, and his mouth gaped in disbelieving horror. Pain registered in his left eye, while his right merely buzzed and fizzled, focusing intently on the scene before him while his mind did its best to take it all in. He felt physically ill. The pent-up nerves and bile he stored threatened to overflow, but he managed to retain them somehow. His face grew pale as the blood drained from his head. Unable to remain standing in his traumatization, he sank to his knees. An uncontrollable tear of anguish left his eye. What HAD they done to her?!

"This was the experiment room. Northcrest allowed the doctors here to use it to practice their latest hypothosised treatments of the patients here, as long as permission was granted and approved." Gwenevere's soft voice rang through the entryway like a distant echo. "Erin was one of the patients he granted this permission on."

Garrett gritted his teeth and shuddered back his tears. He was a cynical rogue who had wanted nothing more than to be left alone most of his life. Few understood this desire, and even fewer allowed it. For as long as he could recall, he had been unwittingly involved in the mishappenings of others. The city, the Pagans, the Keepers...they had all needed him at some point. And they hadn't been shy about forcing that need onto his shoulders. But this wasn't why he hated the world, why he demanded solace. It was ugliness such as this that had made him recoil into the shadows. The murder of his parents, the mistreatment of the innocent and unjust. At an early age, Garrett had come to a life-altering decision.

In a world where THIS was allowed to exist...what point was there in trusting people?

Gwenevere slowly started towards him, and reached out for his slumped back. Sensing her presence, the thief spoke.

"Gwenevere. How do you know all of this?" Gwenevere closed her eyes, watching through her subconscious as the last of her dreams and desires slipped from reach. It was time to tell him the truth. About everything.

"Because I was forced to bear witness to this horrible practice." Garrett's eyes flew open. His blood ran cold and turned to solid ice.

"What did you just say?!" He spoke in a voice barely over a whisper.

His mind raced, and in a flash of drowned blue and bleached white, he suddenly remembered. That night at the Northcrest Manor. The one detail that had nearly slipped its way out of his memory. The hooded figures that had surrounded the Primal Stone. There had been someone else there too. Someone whom he had barely caught sight of, before falling into his coma.

And that someone, had ruby-red hair.

"Northcrest and Simmons wanted to use my power as the Last Mother to..to try and extract the Primal from her body. You see, with my control over earth magic and the forces of nature, they thought that I could-"

"-You were there; weren't you?" He interrupted her, his tone rising. He leered at Gwenevere over his shoulder, demanding an answer. With agonizing reluctance, she nodded. Garrett continued to stare at her, eyes unblinking.

He slowly felt the ice in his blood be burned away by pure hatred. He rose to his feet and whirled around to face the nymph.

"You told me that you weren't there! You told me that you wouldn't know what happened that night, because you weren't there!" He advanced upon her until he was mere inches away from her face. Gwenevere could taste the anger in his voice. She could see the betrayal written in his eyes. Her heart began to palpitate.

"Garrett, please. Let me explain! I-I honestly didn't know that was Erin! How could I possibly have known?!" Her words only caused Garrett's rage to mount.

This girl. He had trained her. Trusted her. Loved her.

While he had still indulged in brief flings, they had never become serious. Garrett didn't need feelings for some girl to cloud his judgement; to make him hesitate in a potentially dangerous situation. And most of all, he didn't need someone who could be used against him. Gwenevere, had not only caused him to take such unnecessary risks, but when the time had come, SHE had been the one to betray him. She had taken more than just his credibility and credo; she had taken his trust. An unforgivable act. In that instant, he turned on her.

"You saw my face, didn't you? I know you're not the smartest girl Gwenevere, but can you at least put two and two together?!" He snarled.

"I saved you..." She growled in defense. "And I tried to save her..."

"But you failed. Like you always do, like you always would have, without my guidance." He pushed his way past her, causing Pilfur to hiss, and stormed out of the room.

The Master Thief had never been so loud. His boots stomped down the hallway of the asylum, causing his footsteps to reverberate off the cold walls. He didn't care who heard him. He didn't care about anything anymore.

A second set of footsteps on the marble up ahead made him automatically crouch into a nearby shadow. The footsteps came closer and Garrett was not surprised to see Gwenevere around the corner. She spotted him somehow, and continued towards him. Normally, this would have impressed Garrett. Not even Erin could find him when he hid. Even the Trickster himself hadn't been aware of the thief's presence until far too late.

But Garrett had no praise for her now. No compliments or sly quips. Only bitter coldness.

No words passed between them as the little nymph came to a squat before him. They just stared at each other, their sentiments very strong; and very understood.

"Garrett. Please. Don't leave me." A cruel smirk found the thief's lips. He looked away from her and scoffed.

"Leave you? Since when was I with you?" His words tore a hole clean through her.

"G-Garrett..." She sobbed. But then she started to laugh hysterically, in a desperate attempt to convince herself that this was merely a cruel joke. "...come on; don't say things like that. You care about me, I know this! You love me and-"

The sudden shimmer of that ominous mechanised eye cut her off, betraying his malice before he even opened his mouth.

A more gregarious man would have held his tongue; unless he was the insidiously cruel type. There were some things one should never say, especially when possessed by anger or pain. But unfortunately, the reserved thief had no such history with women, or even other people. He knew only himself; how he felt at that moment. And he retaliated accordingly.

"-Love you?! I never said I loved you Gwenevere." Garrett continued to take his torment out on her.

"B-but-"

"Gwenevere. I think it's time for your last lesson. It's probably by far the most important one I'll ever teach you, so pretend to be smart for a second and listen. People are only tethers that keep you from being free. They keep you imprisoned with their sentiments and prevent you from achieving balance. When you have severed the ties of that leash, then, and only then, will you be free to observe with eyes unclouded. Sentiments are fabricated Gwenevere. They're nothing more than gimmicky nonsense meant to keep the human race civilized. Put bluntly; love does not exist. You should give up on such trivial fantasies." He replied coldly.

"It's not a fantasy! Honestly Garrett; do you ever stop and listen to yourself?! Is love really such a thing that can be restrained to the conformitive views of man? If you feel something in your heart; something so big, so bountiful, and so amazing that it makes you pale in wonder, tell me Garrett; how can it be fantasy?!" She argued.

The thief didn't answer her. He just began walking away from her again.

"I said leave me alone! I won't tell you again."

"No! I need to make this right! I-"

"Gwenevere! Look around you! You, were involved in all of this! Regardless of whether by choice or by force. You kept this from me, you kept the whereabouts of Erin from me! How do you expect me to forgive that?! There is absolutely nothing that you can do now, to make this right again. Leave!" He demanded.

"Where would I even go?" He voice cracked as the first tears pricked at her eyelids. Her emerald irises shimmered with pain and regret as she looked up at her thief. Practically begging him not to abandon her.

"It doesn't matter to me. Go off with Dawson and his Growers. Become their rabid wood beast goddess. That's what you wanted all along, isn't it? Go off and become a goddess Gwenevere. See if I care!"

The ultimatum speared Gwenevere through the heart. She swallowed, tears beginning to flow down her cheeks.

"Fine. I'll go..." She answered numbly, turning on her heel.

Pilfur still clutched tightly against her chest like a newborn baby, Gwenevere closed her watery eyes and fought to focus her mind. Light began to collect around her from various places around the room. Waves of lighting and luster illuminated her broken form, and a low crackle could be heard as the spell intensified.

In a flash of brilliant green, Gwenevere was gone.


	58. Chapter 61

The pathway was twisted and dark, covered in choked weeds and broken branches. Gwenevere continued to walk, her mind throbbing with guilt and her heart racing with terror. She reached out to feel the crumbled stone wall, her eyes closing in deep sorrow.

She remembered when this wall had been tall, strong, and covered by a thick layer of ivy and moss. This had once been such a beautiful and vibrant place; and now it was gone. Gwenevere receded her hand, and continued on her way. She remembered being attacked by hunters on this road once, long ago. She remembered watching as her mother had impaled them with her roots, and then left them for the wolves. But now the only threat she faced was that of freezing out in the elements of the woods. It would be dark soon, and the young woman still had no idea where she was going, or why she had chosen to trek down this road again in the first place. Her lips parted, pale from the cold.

"Everything was perfect, and you told me that it would stay that way! Garrett, why did you do this?!" She screamed, her voice echoing through the trees. Her anger turned to pain, and she crumpled into a sobbing heap. "Why did I do this..."

One by one, her tears fell and fed the parched earth, and her tiny mews caused even the air around her to depart. As if the entire world was ashamed of her, intimidated by her roots; the darkness fled the lonesome road and morning came.

Gwenevere lifted her head from her knees, her tangled red hair mixing with the tears that flowed forth from her green and gold irises. She was ruler of this place now. Ruler of every tree and ancient pillar; and yet she felt as lost and fearful as a child. She had never felt so alone, as if the entire world was rejecting her; trying to smite her from existence.

Was that why she had come back to her mother's world? Despite the dreadful beasts who lurked within the confines of the twisted wood, or the heavy feeling of dread and loss that filled her without her thief, this had always been the only place where she felt safety, comfort, and peace. She had grown up here with her mother, passing the time dancing and frolicking within the close confines of the trees with the Pagan youths. She remembered how they used to play their games and collect leaves from the forest floor.

She could still remember how soft it was, curling up on her mothers lap at nights to hear one of her many stories; how sweet her mothers hair always seemed to smell, and how gentle and caring she was. At least to her. She was a tall woman; a fine-boned and glorious creature of the wood. But that was such a long time ago; and there was little reason to think it over now. Gwenevere was alone. Alone and unwanted by all. Save the Growers.

With that knowledge, she slowly got to her feet and continued on her way.

The moon shone brilliantly upon the dew-kissed streets of the city. Balmy breezes stirred up little pieces of paper from the streets and carried them off into the unspoken recesses of dark alleyways. For reasons unknown, the streets had returned to some state of peace and normality. Heleana's metal beings no longer patrolled to cause havoc, and Orion's Graven were nowhere in sight. The city watch had done an amazing job at reversing the damage done during the last month's raid. An outsider would never have even known that a fiery massacre had occurred there.

Garrett walked heel toe around the burned shell of his old clock tower home. He was making final preparations to leave for Nethalzia, and looting what little remained here was one of his last goals.

It had been a week since his fallout with Gwenevere back at the Moira Asylum, and the thief hadn't heard from her since. Part of him was worried by this, but this was due to the slightest possible edge of emotion he still held for her. What she had done, what she had kept from him. It was unforgivable.

Thinking of her did remind him of something useful however. The stash of loot she had kept underneath the floorboards during her training. Garrett made his way over to the loose plank, and wiggled it loose. A smile crept across his face for the first time in days when he discovered that the burlap sack was untouched; by both vagrants and the fire. Had she enchanted it somehow?

He greedily tugged open the mouth of the sack, and pulled it wider. The contents did not disappoint, even for a neophyte like Gwenevere. The thief ran his hands through the stash of silver goblets and precious jewels. These would all fetch a nice price once he got to Nethalzia. However, amidst the treasure, was one item he hadn't expected to find.

A letter, carefully folded and sealed with green tree sap.

Garrett stood up and fiddled with the sharp creases of the letter before opening it. He wasn't entirely sure if he wanted to reveal its contents after what had just transpired, but eventually curiosity got the better of him and he began to read:

_Garrett, my dearest thief,_

_We both knew, ever since our eyes locked for the very first time that this day would come. But the funny thing about knowing the future, is that you're seldom prepared for it regardless. There are always unnoticed details, or unexpected twists that shall render you nearsighted to such events. Such is, at least for me, how my departure feels. Even as I sit here in the dark writing this, I can feel the very recesses of my deepest persona being torn asunder. You leave me wondering, dear teacher, how such a pleasant and enduring emotion as love can evoke such agony. I guess such notions are beyond me; yet another human dilemma that the nymph mind was never meant to understand. _

_ If you're reading this, then I am gone. Either by your word or by my own desision, my time as your apprentice is over. Now I step forth into this world as the vigilante that I originally set out to be. Now, I can at last atone for my sins. Perhaps we shall cross paths again one day, although I have my doubts. I've never been even half as good as you Garrett, and you know this. Only one could ever be known as the world's greatest thief, after all; and I admire you beyond words for it. There is an ineffable quality about the way you move yourself through the world at night, the way you pursue and practice your art form. Even if I tried, I know that I could never find you again. _

_ I sincerely hope that you shall forgive me for troubling you, for having to spend so much of your solitude with a neophyte such as I. But in spite of this, said times I will forever keep with me, locked away deep within my soul; where not even a Master Thief could hope ever to take them from me. My memories of you are my own, as they always have been. And always will be. You may not realize this, but our time together was precious to me. I remember how my mother would always tell me that nymphs were the guardians of the forest; the Trickster's maidens. The definition of life itself. But to be honest, I never felt more alive than when I was within the filth and darkness of an abandoned clock tower, wrapped in your arms._

_ No treasure on earth could possibly be seen as fair repayment for what you have gifted me Garrett; I know this. All I have left to offer you are the trinkets within this sack. These are all items that I stole, during the practice sessions I orchestrated around the city when I first came under your instruction. I know that they're virtually worthless compared to all the splendors you have in your own collection, but it would please me beyond words if you were to accept them along with my thanks for training me. _

_ I know that you and I don't see eye-to-eye on many things, but whether you disapprove or not, the souls of this city shall be helped because of what I have learned from you. And you have my eternal gratitude for that. _

_ There is one last sentiment that I can offer you, my thief. Garrett, when I came to this world, I aspired for something more than I could ever hope to be in my lifetime. Unlike most who enter this unforgiving place, I came knowing what I was. But nevertheless, such knowledge didn't stop me from attempting to fulfill my whimsical desires. Driven by an indescribable guilt, and an unquenchible thirst for human companionship, I came to this foreign city. Alone. Afraid. But determined. I now know what folly it was, to try and abandon my true nature. You were right; It can never be denied, challenged or changed. But for that one precious moment when I was with you Garrett; when I was YOUR Gwenevere..._

_ I wasn't just human. I, was whole..._

_ My undying love and devotion,_

_ -Gwenevere_

Garrett crumpled up the yellowed piece of parchment in his fist, his eyes awash with deep emotion. He clenched his teeth, his hand now shaking and his knuckles turning a distict shade of white. Choking back tears of both agony and rage, he reprocessed his bottled emotions into a long, heated sigh. When the last of his breath had left his mouth, the thief retracted his hand from the letter, and watched as the ball of paper dropped silently to the floor. Leaning his elbows against the window ledge, a glint of dying sunset caught the corner of his right eye.

The silence all around the thief was no longer his friend.

Now, it ate away at him.


	59. Chapter 62

Lost in the confines of unspoken dreams, a young fair-haired maiden crooned something before nestling deeper into the soft blue sheets. She didn't hear her visitor as he entered through her bedroom window.

Garrett approached her, his eyes focused and his footsteps silent. He crept forward and leaned over her resting form, making quite certain she was asleep. He watched intently as her eyes began to flutter lightly, confirming that she was indeed residing in the land of dreams. The peace he saw in these slumbering faces always caused him to feel slightly jealous. These carefree souls knew nothing of the real world. They had never been hungry, cold, or sick without medicine. Most went their entire lives without experiencing even one of these woes, and secretly, the thief hated them for it.

But their fortunate standing did have its way of benefitting him, and it was time to attend to that.

"Ellen? Sweetheart, did you leave the window open? It's freezing in here!" A bellowing voice startled him. It was coming from down the hallway, no doubt that of Lady Middleton's husband.

Garrett cringed and swiftly darted into the sanctity of a nearby oak wardrobe.

_Damn winter winds..._ He thought with a scowl.

The thief had closed his entry window the moment his boots hit the carpet, but with the particularly brutal weather the city had been experiancing lately, apparently that hadn't been soon enough. Enough of that foul weather had entered to alert the lord of the estate.

"Ellen!" Lord Middleton roared again, this time awakening his wife. She rose from the large bed, bleary-eyed.

"Huh? What is it Darius?" She blinked, slipping her feet into warm fur slippers. She wrapped her robe tightly around her curvaceous form before meeting her husband in the doorway. Lord Middleton leaned forward, bracing his weight against the firm wooden planks.

"I said, it's colder than an ice burrick's scat in this place! What's your obsession with fresh air love?"

"I didn't leave it open Darius, look!" Lady Middleton huffed, pointing to the sealed window.

Obviously not believing her, Darius passed her and went to investigate. Garrett was beginning to perspire amongst the heavy fur coats within his hiding place, and the suspenseful atmosphere wasn't doing anything to alleviate that. His anxiety only mounted when the lord spoke again, and it was not what the thief had wanted to hear.

"Oh yeah? Then what the hell's this snow doing inside eh?" Garrett's pupil dilated. He thought he'd scraped all of that accused winter from his boots before entering. Apparently not. His every nerve on edge, Garrett withdrew his blackjack and prepared himself for the worst.

And it didn't take long for it to come.

Lord Middleton began to furiously search the bedroom. The thief could hear as he slammed the bathroom door open and flipped on the light switch. He tore the tablecloth off the table, sending several glass keepsakes shattering to the floor.

"Darius! What in god's name are you doing?!" Lady Middleton squawked, having finally had enough. She'd been interrupted from her dreaming for this?!

"Don't play the fool with me Ellen! I'm on to you! I know exactly what you're hiding too!" From within the wardrobe, Garrett pressed his ear closer.

_Hiding eh? Hmmm, this could be interesting..._ He smirked, thinking there to be more treasure in the Middleton estate than he had originally anticipated.

However, what the lord said next denounced his hopes outright.

"I saw the way you were chatting it up with Edgar the other night at the Simmons gala! I know that you're at least thinking about it, you sure seem to fancy the man!" Garrett sneered. If he never heard the name Simmons again, it would be too soon.

"Darius! What are you saying?! I would never cheat on you my love!"

"Oh yeah?" The thief's arm muscles tensed, and his fingers flexed around the handle of the blackjack as the lords voice became closer and more enraged. "We'll just see about that!"

And with that, Lord Middleton swung open the door to the wardrobe.

Garrett burst out, ready to strike the lord upon the head. But before he could, Lord Middleton stepped back and beheld the intruder with a smug, satisfied grin. His wife shrieked.

"Ah-huh! Just as I thought." He turned around to face Lady Middleton, although he was still firmly pointing at Garrett's perplexed expression. "This your illicit lover then? You're 'thief in the night'?"

"Dairus...help me! I've never seen that man in all my days!" The lady begged, cowering away from the thief. Garrett's amazement only grew when the lord completely ignored him and instead began to berate his wife.

"You must think I'm a real fool, huh? Enough of your act Ellen, just admit your guilt!"

"But I swear-"

"-How long as this been going on anyway? Two weeks? Two years? I always knew you only married me for my money!" He continued his tirade, noticing not as Garrett slowly crept up behind him.

WAM!

With a single, well-aimed smack, Garrett's blackjack made contact. Lord Middleton fell forward onto the plush bed with a groan, causing his terrified wife to scream. Her eyes never left the thief as he followed her around the room. Out the corner of his eye, Garrett noticed that the door to the hall was still wide open. As a last resort, Lady Middleton broke out into a dead run towards the exit, but she wasn't the first to reach it.

Garrett slammed the door shut and stood in front of it, trapping the lady of the house inside with him. Lady Middleton collapsed into a defeated pile at his feet, and began to plead with him. While he didn't show it, the irony of this was hilarious to him.

An uppercrust noble, groveling before a thief.

"P-please sir...don't kill me! I'll give you anything you desire!"

"Tch, anything?" He finally spoke, eyeing her warily.

"Yes! Yes! Anything! Just please don't-"

"-Where's the safe?" Garrett cut her off.

"It's two doors down. Here! I have the key and everything!" Lady Middleton reached into the neck of her nightgown and retrieved the small silver key from her necklace. She shakily passed it to Garrett, who snatched it away from her. "T-there. You have what you came for. Now let me go!" She demanded, getting to her feet.

Garrett stared at her; never saying a word and never moving from the blocked door.

"Not everything."

"W-what more could you possibly want?" She backed away, eyes wide with desperation. Garrett's bi-colored stare locked into hers.

"The peace of mind that you won't go running to alert the watch after I take my leave. I don't like loose ends..."

Before Lady Middleton could protest, the thief's blackjack caught the side of her head and she was out cold.

THE CITY

ONE WEEK AGO:

Sophie hurried around the living room of her apartment. She gathered up a loaf of bread and a warm blanket and tucked them lovingly away into her wicker basket. Basso stood in the doorway, looking on in disbelief. His sister had always been headstrong and self-sufficient, but this was beyond that. This was madness. After hearing about their fallout, Sophie had decided to get Gwenevere's side of the story. Unlike her sibling, she didn't belive that the breakup had been Gwenevere's doing. Not in the slightest.

"You can't seriously be going to the Grower compound! Sophie, be reasonable!"

"I am being reasonable! Gwenevere needs me."

"Soph, c'mon! This is between her, and Garrett."

"Listen Basso. I love Garrett; we both do..." She stared up at him, adding a warm change of clothes to her basket.

"Not sure 'love' is the right word, but okay..." The boxman shrugged.

"You knew what I meant. We both care about that stubborn taffer, but let's be honest. What he did to that poor girl was just cruel." Basso stared at her, his mouth gaping in disbelief.

"Sophie, did you just get back from whimsy land or somethin'? Gwenevere was the one who wronged him! She kept Erin's whereabouts, hell, the fact that she was still alive, a secret!" Sophie slammed the lid of the basket shut, her nerves shot.

"Because he told her to!"

"What?!"

"Yeah! Or did your best mate forget to mention that?"

"Er, he might have left out a detail or two..." Basso murmured. Sophie just rolled her eyes.

"Garrett told Gwenevere to never divulge anything to anyone unless directly asked. Not sure how that helps her become a better thief, but she listened to him regardless. Like she always did. I knew her Basso. I saw the way she hung on his every word. Gwenevere did not do this to hurt him. She was trying to follow his instruction."

Basso turned away as the weight of realization hit him hard. Gwenevere was not the malicious type.

"Shit..." Basso shook his head. "You're right; you're always right Sophie. I knew something was bothering Garrett that day, I just didn't ask. The taffer got hit by the unexpected, and he overreacted. Like he always does. He doesn't have social skills worth a rats ass..."

The boxman sat down in an armchair, and removed his hat.

"That's why he's better off alone; relationships are just more than he can handle."

Sophie grabbed up her coat and started towards the door.

"I don't belive that Basso, and neither should you. Garrett has always been a loner, but that's because he wanted to be alone. You saw the two of them together, the way he looked at her. It wasn't about the gold you gave him, or her training. He wanted to be with Gwenevere." She gave a sincere smile. "That's why I'm going to go talk to her, and see what I can find out. Maybe...well, maybe it's not too late to fix this."

As her hand found the doorknob, Basso called after her.

"Sophie?"

"Yeah?"

"Be careful." The older woman smiled at her brother's expressed concern.

"I will. Thank you."

THE CITY

PRESENT DAY:

Upon his return to the Crippled Burrick, Garrett found Basso waiting for him in the usual place. The confines of the back booth.

"Hey-hey! Bout' time you showed up!" Basso smiled as Garrett took a seat on the opposite side. "So, how'd the job go? Did'ja get what I asked for?"

Garrett removed the small gold statue from his knapsack. It was an anubis, with sapphire eyes and a collar of garnets and rubys. Basso's eyes grew livid as Garrett passed it off to him.

"I've never liked dogs, but I like this one." Garrett smirked.

"Heh-heh...don't blame you. Here's your pay."

The transaction complete, the thief tucked away the bulging sack of gold. Most of it would go towards the rent he owed on his new apartment in Nethalzia. It was the first actual home he'd had in years. The world had sent him full circle, although the weary thief was no doubt worse for the wear. Basso leaned back in the booth, and stretched with a long groan.

"So, how's the new place?"

"Quiet. Like the way the city used to be, before Karras and his Mechanists royally taffed the place." Garrett mused.

"Yeah, those were the days," Basso sighed, "I take it that Nethalzia ain't nearly as industrialized then?"

"Not even close."

"You make it sound so quaint Garrett. Makes me a tad envious. Life ain't exactly been much of a picnic around here lately. Not since Lord Simmons proclaimed himself as ruler in the baron's stead."

"How does that work? He's not exactly family."

"That's the point. Baron Northcrest had no heirs. I mean, there were whispers that he had a brother at one point, but that's about it. So Simmons just stepped up and took what he wanted. Regular snake in the grass, if you ask me."

"Seems that runs in the family..." Garrett grumbled. Basso's expression grew extremely concerned and saddened.

"Garrett...look, I'm sorry that it didn't work out with G-"

"-Don't!...mention her name..." The thief raised his voice. Basso stared at his sudden unrest, crooking an eyebrow in discontent.

"Got it..." The boxman sighed.

"And before you offer to buy me a pint or ask if I'm okay, I'm fine. More than fine. I can focus on what's really important again; my work, and the money that comes with it." Garrett snorted.

"Really wish you'd just stay in Nethalzia though. Better than riskin' yer neck by coming back here." Basso griped, sensing the weight that his friend was carrying behind that firm frown.

"What would be the point in laying low, if I started stealing from the people there? The gold from the trinkets I brought along is nearly gone, and I have rent to pay for again. Besides, I don't have a fence in Nethalzia, and I still need to come back here to look for..." Garrett looked out the window with a heavy sigh.

Basso knew exactly what he was looking for. Or rather, whom.

"Erin. Yeah, I know." The boxman looked down at his ale, disheartened. "Any idea where she might be now?"

"Not a clue." The thief took a sip of his ale.

"Well, I hope you find her."

"So do I."

Basso continued to watch him, sharing in his burden. It seemed like just the other day, new life had begun to take hold within his mate. There was hope and joy where there had never been any before. Garrett had been filled with a new drive, a new purpose.

Now, it was completely gone. The thief had returned to his cold, reserved self.

Basso looked out the window at the world of ice and snow, and huffed. He wondered how Sophie was doing in her quest to find out more from Gwenevere. When he had gone back to the island to retrieve Garrett and Gwenevere after a weeks time, only the thief had been waiting for him. Garrett told the boxman that Gwenevere had used her magic to teleport back to the forest, to be with the Growers. Initially, he had been enraged by this. What she had done, what she had kept from the man she swore she loved. It was unforgivable.

He would have stuck by that belief, had it not been for his strangely wise younger sister putting things in perspective. Thinking of Sophie made his head hurt. He wondered if she was alright.

"Garrett. I've been meaning to ask you; what exactly happened?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know, with that girl whom I'm not allowed to name for some reason."

"Nothing. Nothing at all."

"Oh, I know that ain't true! If that was the case, you'd still be proddin' her like there was gold up her-"

"-Enough! She betrayed me, kept everything I needed to know in the shadows. What more do you want to know Basso?"

"That's plenty, thanks." Basso reached for a cocktail peanut. "But, what if she didn't?"

"What?" Garrett leered at him.

"I mean, what if she wasn't trying to betray your trust? What if she was just following orders in her own naïve way? After all, wasn't it YOU who taught the gal to only tell stuff when asked?"

"That's beyond the point Basso."

"Not really..." Basso scratched his nose.

"Look, I don't want to talk about it, okay? I just want to get this mess she caused me taken care of. That's it!" The thief started to stand, but then abruptly sat back down. He stared out at the nothingness of the world around him, lost in his memories.

His hopes and desires all denied.

"When I decided to leave the city, I actually managed to convince myself that I could start over. I wanted to at least try anyway. I knew that I wouldn't be very good at it; my talent is theft, not relationships. But I still stupidly thought at the time, that I could merge her desires in with my own. I've certainly pulled off harder things. Raising Erin, for example. Not exactly easy to look after a little girl and keep the sword out of my back." He laughed sadly. Basso numbly allowed the bar wench to refill his glass, watching Garrett through intent eyes. "I could never stop being a thief Basso. It's who I am, it's all I've ever been good at. But I've since learned, that I can at least be decent at other things. And for Gwenevere's sake, I wanted to try. But it was all just a foolish daydream..." He concluded, his voice distant.

"Yeah, but the funny thing about dreams Garrett, is that you don't live them. Gwenevere was no dream, no illusion. And it might not be too late to recognize that." Basso offered. His words stung Garrett like knives. Instantly, the thief stood, no longer enjoying this conversation.

"Forget it. I've been burned by my feelings for the last time Basso. I'm going home."

With that, the downtrodden rogue disappeared into the hazy night.


	60. Chapter 63

THE FOREST

ONE WEEK AGO:

Gwenevere stared blankly into the depths of the forest spring. More petals left her fingertips as she plucked them from the supple lavender lily.

Plip, plip, plip...

They made a soft drip as they hit the water, disrupting the serene pool with a series of tiny ripples. Gwenevere's eyes never left their wake. She could hear the songbirds chirping their melodies overhead, and she could smell the sweet and tangy bouquet of fresh dewy grass thawing free from its snowy prison. It was growing warmer; spring was fast approaching, and the little nymph knew this all too well. Her senses had heightened tremendously since coming here. Her sense of smell and eyesight now rivaled that of any woodland beast, and her magic had grown more formidable. After nearly sixteen years, the nymph was back within her native enviroment. Gwenevere had found a place amongst Dawson and his Growers, whom had all welcomed her graciously. The Last Mother, as they called her. Their goddess. Gwenevere smirked at the notion. It was beyond ridiculous to her; and yet it was the truth.

Amusement was soon replaced by a haunting stillness. If she was home, if she was so powerful and adored, why did she feel useless and dead inside?

Her newfound questions made her very uncomfortable. Gwenevere frowned and went back to her flower picking.

"They're quite beautiful, aren't they?" Dawson's cheery voice nearly caused her to jump. Gwenevere turned around and pursed her lips in naive confusion. The leader of the Grower cult approached her with a smile. "But if you'll permit me to inquire, why are you tearing their petals off?"

Gwenevere gaped at him for a second. Then she looked back down at the wilted lily in her lap.

"I...I don't know." She muttered.

"Can you not feel their discomfort at such an act?" Dawson asked, more out of genuine concern than anger.

Gwenevere's eyes were now focused intensely upon the flower. She wasn't like other nymphs. Her mother could feel the pain of all life within the forest. She could communicate with every creature, every tree; and she could command them to her will. But Gwenevere had never been able to achieve that. The most she had ever been able to do, was speak with animals. She couldn't feel the pain of another, unless she was absorbing their suffering with her healing magic. And even her healing magic was weak compared to what her late parent was capable of. Viktoria could heal others without taking their damage in return. Turning back to Dawson with saddened, mournful eyes, Gwenevere spoke.

"I can't feel anything."

"I understand." He kindly nodded sympathetically.

"You do?" Gwenevere cocked her head.

"You've been away from your wood for so long. Too long." Dawson hesitated, then leaned into her.

Gwenevere's body tensed as he brushed away a stray strand of her ruby hair from her vibrant eyes. His own irises trembled as he beheld them. They were green beyond the brightest shade of celadon, mirroring the entirety of the enchanted forest. Several flecks of gold swirled like a wild inferno around her pupils, no doubt a reflection of her magical essences.

It was then that Dawson beheld the Wood Beast for the first time. It was synonymous with Gwenevere, and yet it couldn't have been more her beast had the bulk and head of a great bear, and the plumed tail and muzzle of a wolf. Thick foliage covered its body in a tangled mess of green, while the enormous paws were composed of bark and thorn.

"Dawson?" She called to him, once again confused.

In that moment, her voice split. Dawson heard two voices coming from her. The words of both the Wood Beast, and the innocent nymph staring up at him. The voice of the beast, was one that he would never forget for the rest of his days. There was only one way to describe the way it spoke.

Utterly terrifying.

The creature glared at him through her, its hellish yellow eyes tormenting him. Daring him to provoke it, hungry for his blood. As her eyes began to draw him in, Dawson pulled away. He did not wish to be consumed by her gaze. For it was a prison from which no mortal could ever escape.

"M'lady! Forgive me, I have intruded upon your privacy. I should never had asked what you were doing, nor questioned your motives. A thousand pardons."

''Oh? That's fine; you aren't bothering me."

Gwenevere's laughter was a welcome relief to his petrified eardrums. Dawson didn't hear the Wood Beast this time, and he hoped he never would again. He stared at her. What matter of creature was she? How could such an innocent and cheerful form serve as a cage to that demonic goddess? Dawson bit his lip. This wasn't what he had been expecting. This hadn't been prophesied. The Last Mother was supposed to be a whole entity, not a divided being.

_What had happened to cause this? Has she always been this way? Or was it something caused by exposure to the city?_

He pondered these things in silence, never taking his eyes off Gwenevere.

"Dawson? Did you need something?" She called again, breaking his concentration.

"Oh, uh...I came to inform you that you have a visitor."

"A visitor?!" Gwenevere's heart leapt. She got to her feet in elated exuberance.

For one joyous moment, she pondered the possibility of it being Garrett. Had the thief come to forgive her? Could she be by his side again?

But then reality sank in. Garrett was not coming to see her. He would never want to see her again. He hated her.

"Who is it?" She asked, choking back sobs of crestfallen defeat.

"She said her name was Sophie. Do you know her?" This news caused Gwenevere's pain to let up a bit.

"Yes. Yes I do. Where is she?"

"Back at the compound. Shall we go and greet her?" Dawson asked, taking a step towards her. Gwenevere nodded briskly and exited the forest clearing.

The Grower Compound was a large, rounded area composed of several adobe homes running along the innermost layer. Each home had a plot of tilled land enclosed by crude wooden fencing. Each of the soil patches within held various produce and herbs that the cultists carefully attended to on a daily basis. The middlemost area was reserved for mud brick buildings, each ten feet tall and twenty feet wide. These were reserved for processing the Growers harvest and the meat and food their livestock produced. These would all be sold down in the city, and traded amongst neighboring villages and towns. There was also a separate building for experimentation with alchemical ingredients. The last and outermost area was where Dawson resided, the storage barns, as well as the large temple erected and dedicated to the Grower religion; and the Last Mother.

Gwenevere's home at the moment was nearest to Dawson, in a single story adobe home near the entrance to the Pagan Forest. After saying her goodbyes to the Grower leader, she opened the door and started inside. Sophie's face contorted into a relieved smile as she watched Gwenevere enter the dwelling. Gwenevere returned the kind expression and set her basket of lilies down atop a nearby table. Once this was done, she rushed over and embraced her maternal figure. Pent-up tears left her eyes with a relieved sigh.

"Sophie! I never thought I'd see you again!" Gwenevere cried into the older woman's lap. Sophie rubbed her back, gently rocking the little creature as she sobbed.

"Hey now. What kind of a friend would I be if I didn't come and visit you, silly girl?" Gwenevere looked up at her, eyes growing slightly bloodshot from crying.

"We're...we're friends Sophie? You still like me?!" Sophie looked her over discerningly.

"Of course I do Gwenevere; why wouldn't I?" Sophie crooned.

Gwenevere sank down onto her backside, and looked down at the dirt floor. Pilfur gave a high-pitched mew, and jumped off the bed to claim her newly offered lap. Gwenevere numbly stroked the kitten, and he began to purr, making biscuits into the folds of her green skirt.

"Well, because of what happened with-"

"-Gwenevere." Sophie calmly placed a finger to the young woman's quivering lips. "Don't blame yourself for even a second. It wasn't your fault. I of all people can attest to how...aloof...Garrett can be. He's hard to understand, and he likes it that way. It helps to keep others at bay. But belive me; it was his mistake, not yours."

"How can you be so sure?"

"I know what he taught you, and I know that you would never do anything to hurt him. Hell, you saved his life Gwenevere! Heaven knows what that bastard general would have put him through if you hadn't stepped in." Gwenevere looked nervous again. She shot Sophie a bothered glance.

"Oh, that. I was just trying to thank him. And it ended up doing more harm than good. They think Garrett killed him."

"That doesn't matter now. He's safe."

"Really?"

"Mm-hm. He's in Nethalzia. No one will think to look for him there." Sophie reassured her. A part of Gwenevere was glad that Garrett was away from danger, at least for now. But still, a fire ignited across her heart at the news. He had left the city, and taken all hope of her ever seeing him as well.

"Well, I hope he'll be happy there." Gwenevere commented softly.

"I doubt it. Garrett's never happy." Sophie scoffed. "In fact, I never even saw him smile until he was with you."

"Is that why you didn't stay with him?" Gwenevere asked, watching as Pilfur left her lap.

"Huh?! Oh, he told you about that then..." Sophie smirked. She hadn't expected the thief to actually listen to her. "Well, for one thing, we were never actually together. It was a one night stand."

"A what?"

"Basically, it means that we were attracted to each other physically. So naturally, we didn't enter an actual relationship. It was a very complicated situation, and one that I still sometimes regret." The older woman stared up at the ceiling. Her mind wandered back to her youth for several moments, and then she smiled back down at Gwenevere again. "But anyway, the reason I came was to check up on you. Basso told me that you'd joined the Growers."

"How is Basso?" Gwenevere inquired, brushing cat hair from her lap.

"Oh, a little grumpier, a little fatter. Not much to talk about there." She laughed. "But seriously; how are you holding up here Gwenevere?" Gwenevere brushed some of her hair away from her eyes.

"I'm okay..."

"Just okay? Well, we need to do something to cheer you up then!" Although she hid it well, inside, Sophie was wracked with worry over what Gwenevere was going though and how it was effecting her.

"No, you don't have to do that. You have the tavern to attend to, and Basso. I can't keep you from your life."

"Think nothing of it sweetheart; it's not much of a life, trust me." Sophie released a regretful chuckle. "You're way more important."

Gwenevere was uncertain at how she should react to such a kind gesture. She didn't want to keep Sophie, but it seemed that the strong woman wasn't about to take no for an answer either.

"So you're just gonna stay here then? But what about your job? Won't you get fired if you miss too much work?" Gwenevere's eyes went wide with worry.

"Gwenevere, I already told you; I'm not leaving here until I've helped you through this mess. No matter how long that takes."

"It's alright Sophie, you don't have to do that, I'm fine. Really!"

"No. No sweetie, you're not." Sophie touched her knee. "If you were, then you wouldn't be here with these fanatics, that's for sure. I know you Gwenevere, at least well enough to have a basic understanding of what you want out of this life. And I know you don't want to play leader to these cultists."

Gwenevere looked out the window and exhaled a long sigh. Maybe that was true, but it didn't matter anymore. Her dreams and motives had become all but a fading memory. Such trivial hopes were no longer hers to remember. Gwenevere Simmons no longer had a place in this world.

Garrett had been all that defined her. Without him, only the Last Mother remained.


	61. Chapter 64

THE PAGAN WOOD

SIXTEEN YEARS AGO:

_ Two little girls sat within the confines of a small forest clearing. From afar, they would appear to be twins; both had long hair and gentle dispositions. But upon closer inspection, even a stranger would soon discover that one of the girls was far darker in spirit. The older one, with her bestial green and gold irises, and delicate skin as pale as moonlight. Yet despite her mysterious and complex appearance, the strange child was just as innocent and kind as her playmate. Perhaps even, a little more so._

_ As they played upon their patched quilt with crude yet well-sewn dolls and leaves, the hazel-eyed girl began to speak._

_"So, whys don't you ever wants to play in the village with the rest of my friendsies? I'm sure that they bes happy to meetsies with you."_

_"I'd bes happy to meetsies them, Alyeena. But Dyan says that bes a bad idea."_

_"Why would Leader Dyan speaksies such things?" Alyeena asked._

_"She tellses me that I needs to bes planning for my future as the Last Mother. Says it bes too important to playsies my youth away." Alyeena nodded slowly. _

_ Ever since her best friend's mother had left the wood, never to return. Ever since her second, a woman named Dyan had been put in charge of the Pagan cult. Since then, life had been hard on the green-eyed child. The Pagans were restless, fearful. Thanks to Mechanist influence, however waning it was, their habitat was shrinking; their way of life disappearing. The death of Karras had been blamed on their kind, and had reignited a fire of hatred within their rival sect; The Hammerites. _

_ Even if the Hammers had opposed the Mechanists openly, they still hated the Pagans even more. The forest dwellers had been forced into hiding, taking up refuge wherever they could. Deep, uncharted parts of the wilderness, abandoned mining shafts and dilapidated buildings thick with foliage. And even here, none of them truly felt safe. The Trickster was gone, and now, so was their nymph leader. All hope of a future now lay with her daughter. Demi-goddess spawn of their greatest leaders. _

_ Alyeena hugged her friend._

_"I bes sorry..." She cooed. "For everything, Woodsie Child."_

Gwenevere awoke upon her feather bed. She looked down at the wet stains upon the sheets and rubbed her eyes. The wetness confirmed her suspicions; she had been crying in her sleep again. She stood and began to look around the one room dwelling. Her new home. Sophie was resting peacefully, curled up in a chair on the opposite side of the abode, whilst Pilfur was perched atop the window ledge, staring up at the moon. The window held no glass, and the nymph could hear the wind as it rushed through the tall trees. She took a deep breath of the fragrant nocturnal flowers as they wafted by. A surreal wave of dark grey hit her, causing her to become very uneasy. Sophie was correct. This wasn't what she wanted to do with her life. Truth be told, she knew absolutely nothing about the Growers, or what their plans were. Did they truly intend to help the city? Or was this all just another made-up story ushered by religious fanatics to a hopeless world?

"What am I doing here?" She whispered. Would she ever have an answer to that complex and seemingly impossible question? Finding that sleep was no longer possible, Gwenevere stood from her bed and decided to go and find the Grower leader. Perhaps he held the answer she so desperately needed.

"Dawson? Where are you?" She knocked gently on the door of the large stone temple.

It creaked open as the pressure of her hand found the door. Gwenevere started within, still feeling curious. The inside was dark, save for a single candle upon a large sandstone alter. There was a strange smell in the air, resembling flowers mixed with fire. The floorboards creaked slightly under her weight as she progressed through the temple.

Atop the altar was a thick, handwritten tome. The last two pages had been left open, the ink still wet. Gwenevere approached and began to scan the words before her:

_ Upon closer inspection, she appears unlike what was foretold. The Last Mother refers to herself as 'Gwenevere', and seemingly has little to no recollection of her past, or her true nature. If the prophecy is indeed to be fulfilled, she must come to realize and accept these truths first._

"Such pointless drivel, wouldn't you agree?_" _

Gwenevere jumped at the creaky voice. She whirled around and came face to face with the wizened Temple Keeper; a being whom she had thought to never see again.

"What are you doing here? I thought you were a Pagan?" She asked, cupping her hands against her abdomen. The elder stepped out of the shadows and into the moonlit center of the temple. A genuine smile found his leathery lips.

"You have chosen a new path, it would seem. You are the last link to the old ways. And since I am now the only living follower of the Pagan faith, it is my place to follow wherever you may lead me. Better to unite with the heretics, than allow the ways of the wood to fade away into memory."

"So, you're a Grower now?"

"I am what I always have been. You're loyal disciple and follower." His eyes glistened, temporarily giving way to the dark voids of his true form; the tree beast.

Gwenevere huffed and sat down atop the altar. The moonlight illuminated her now, causing the temple keeper to marvel in awe.

"I've never wanted any of this. Followers. Worship." She cast her eyes up to meet the ivory moon. It was a pale crescent that night; a smile that seemed to be mocking her. "All I ever wanted was to be happy."

"Happiness is a worthy pursuit, but it can also be a selfish one. There has never been a being born into this world who did not come attached with at least one responsibility. The definition of truth is found within the aforementioned result. What the person in question decides to do with said task."

"I'm afraid I don't understand you." Gwenevere blinked. A shimmer of moonlight caught the edges of her ring, and the Woodsie Emerald within. Noticing this, the elder's eyes narrowed.

"Were is the human you were so fond of?"

"I don't honestly know."

"But, I thought that you had found happiness within him?"

"I had."

"Yet you allow him to slip through your grasp. Why is this?"

"Because I want the same for him. I want Garrett to be happy. Even if it means that I'm no longer a part of his life." The temple keeper smiled again.

"Now that, was what I meant by responsibility. You put the joys of another above your own. That, shows promise young one. The same you must do now, for your people. For the future."

"I can't..." Gwenevere trembled, hiding her ring with her other hand. She did not wish to speak of this matter further. She started to stand and walk off, when the unexpected found her ears.

The Temple Keeper, called her by name. Her real name.

Gwenevere spun around and met his expectant stare. He had called out to her in nymph; a language which she had assumed completely forgotten by now.

"Can you...repeat that...i-in English?" She pleaded, desperate to be able to convey her long forgotten name to others. Her mind strayed once again to Garrett. How she wished that he could have called her by that name!

"I'm afraid the name does not translate well, m'lady..." The temple keeper replied sadly.

"Well, could you at least-"

"Names are pretty, but meaningless overall. What matters is the person they belong to. I know why you wish this information, but tell me child; was that the name _he_ knew you by? Was that the identity of the woman he once loved?"

"How do you know about that!?"

"Twas my business to know. What matter of guardian would I be, if I failed to protect you from harm?" Gwenevere shook her head at the explanation.

"To answer your question, it was Gwenevere. Garrett knew me; loved me...by that name."

"Then what significance would your true name possibly hold for him?"

"None, I suppose." She spoke slightly disappointed.

"I am a creature of the untamed world, and thus, I have learned to adapt to a changing world. You, must learn to do the same. The future beckons, Last Mother. It is time to rise and meet it."

She hung her head and nodded in bittersweet understanding. She now knew what had to be done.

Approaching the temple keeper, the nymph reached for his wrinkled hands. She gingerly pulled them close and then deposited three unseen objects within his palm. He shakily withdrew and opened up his hand. Inside were three golden seeds, dotted with coppery brown flecks and alive with luster. The elder gasped in disbelief. For he knew exactly what they were.

"M-m'lady?"

"I'm not sure what I can do for the Growers, but I'm going to give it everything I've got. If it truly is my destiny to lead them, then I shall. But before I do, I need to entrust these to you. I..." Her eyes suddenly took on a look of deep regret and unspeakable depression. "I know that my thief won't be around forever. I know that what we had is over. But in spite of that, I still wish to retain some part of him here with me. This will...also ensure that the way of the Pagans is not easily forgotten. Even if something happens to me now; there will still be a future for the forest. So long as you take good care of them..."

"M'lady? Don't you want to be the one to plant them?"

"In time. I just want you to hold onto them for now. I sense danger in my future, and I cannot risk losing them..."

"So I see. Then I promise you that I shall guard them with every ounce of my power." Gwenevere gazed up into his ancient eyes, tears flooding her own.

"Thank you."


	62. Chapter 65

Garrett had been living in Nethalzia for almost a month. It was a warm evening that night, as the wayward thief set out once more to board the train that would take him back to the city. It was far from the rooftop highways he was used to, but it was quick, free, and it got him to where he needed to be.

He was beginning to wonder if he would ever be able to track Erin down. He was more likely to meet with his own demise than see her again. He squeezed his eyes tightly closed in denial. He still had to try. Had he known, he would have scoured the city for her the moment he had been delivered from that year-long coma. The sheer thought that she had been caged, tortured, while he helplessly slept or thought her dead...it ate away at him in ways that he never thought possible.

He left his small apartment, a rustic little shack. The landlord Basso had found to rent out the place for him had advertised the place as a 'scenic villa overlooking rural Nethalzia'. In actuality, the place was a splintered relic from the last war; creaky and falling apart at best. And he was shelling out nearly 700 gold a month for it. Garrett scoffed.

"At least you tried this time, old man..."

He wondered if the boxman had any more work for him, or if he would merely want to waste his time with chat and drink again; like the last few times.

It wouldn't hurt to ask when he got there anyway.

"Evening!"

Garrett nearly jumped out of his skin as the gruff voice of a Nethalzian officer addressed him. He turned to face the man, face as white as death. The officer greeted the thief's startled expression with a bemused grin.

"Calm your toes mate, I was jus' sayin' 'ello." He chuckled.

"Mm." Garrett managed a brisk nod.

It was awkward enough speaking with random passers-by. This, was an officer, essentially a guard. His sworn enemy.

"You act like I'm gonna take out yer tongue or somethin'! Some people, I suppose..." The navy-clad officer shook his head, his grin expanding. "Anyway, you have yerself a nice night."

Without waiting for Garrett to respond, he began whistling a familiar ditty, and marched off into the darkness.

The thief stood petrified, feeling as the blood slowly returned to his frozen face. No one knew him here. No one wanted to see him hung or flayed here. Here in Nethalzia, Garrett truly was a ghost.

And it was time for him to feel alive again.

His cloak made a swishing sound as the thief finished locking up his dwelling and headed for the train station.

The iron train tracks were about the only industry one could hope to find in the sleepy burg. The only reason for their existence being so that Nethalzia could trade and receive with other, larger towns. Garrett tapped his fingers against a wooden bench, impatient for his midnight boxcar to arrive. He squinted and shielded his eyes as a bright light found his face. The deafening cry the train made as it entered the station caused his eardrums to reverberate and protest.

He remained solemn in the shadows as a cheery yellow glow poured out from the passenger car. A tired yet cheery face popped through the doorway, and it was soon joined by others. Garrett watched as the passengers began to depart down the shiny red stairs and overflow into the cobblestone streets. Most appeared to be home from business, carrying large leather satchels and wearing coal-grey hats. But some were obviously just here for a visit.

Hpwever, one such pair of passengers, couldn't help but catch the thief's gaze.

Two young lovers, a blonde young man and a shorter, red-haired girl. They held each other close, although the reason was clearly that of affection rather than chill. For some reason, the thief found himself locked onto them. The way they moved simultaneously with one another, existing freely and without care. Every so often, the man would stroke the girl's hair tenderly. No words passed between them as they walked. It was as if they communicated only by the sweet touch of their hands.

Garrett felt nothing but scorn for them. And yet, he could not turn away. There was something there. Something that felt like it was his, and seeing this couple with it filled him with a painful, and unfamiliar emotion. Whatever they held over him, he wanted it back. Whatever they had, the thief felt that it should rightfully belong to him.

The girl turned her head and looked curiously at him as she passed. Then, she smiled.

"Good evening." Her voice was sweet like silk.

This perplexed Garrett. Most of the middle class women back in the city would recoil in fear at the sight of him. But what truly disturbed him, what made him want to turn around and forgo his journey to the city that eve, was the carefree innocence in her eyes. Her shimmering, green eyes.

While there were obvious differences, the uncanny similarities far outweighed them. Garrett felt his heart crack. The tightly wound spiral of despair he had been silently battling through began to unfurl wildly.

_That girl. She looked just like Gwenevere..._

"My, Vlad, you've certainly gotten lucky over these past few years." Heleana paced the room, watching as Lord Simmons, newly coronated Baron of the city, rested contentedly upon his bed.

"Luck is for the desperate, my sweet Heleana. True men dominate their way through this world, force their way to the top." Simmons relaxed expression was suddenly replaced by a sour scowl. "And I'm not at the top yet, am I?"

"Ooh, I could make that possible for you Vlad. All you had to do was ask." Heleana seduced. Her offer was all but wasted on deaf ears. Simmons growled under his breath and stood.

"Now is not the time for you to offer up your pleasantries to me Heleana. You're metal beings failed me!"

"Hmm...I seem to recall that you had two of your own assassins there as well..." The blonde pursed her lips, hiding her displeasure. No one insulted her creations and got away with it. And Simmons, would be no exception. "Pathetic that they can practically wipe out Hammerites and Pagans, but against one nature abomination? Oh no, those big men couldn't handle that!" She teased.

"I'd like to see you handle her any better!"

"Belive me; I've thought about it." She purred suggestively. Simmons refilled his brandy glass and took a long chug.

"I was hoping to crush that pathetic thief where he stood. We find him, we find Gwenevere. But it couldn't be simple, now could it? Damn crook. Why must he always scatter and scurry out of my grasp like the pathetic insect he is?" His rhetorical question was answered by a mocking giggle.

"If you don't have your answer by now, then I have sincere doubts about your history here. For the last twenty years, Garrett's been the most cunning and slippery man this city's ever known. You're not about to kill him with assassins, or bind him in chains. You'll need to outsmart him, and that won't be easy. Give an already talented and intelligent man Keeper training and you're just asking for trouble."

"To be quite blunt Heleana, I don't bloody well care if he robs the entire city blind. It's Gwenevere I want."

"So, being the Baron isn't enough for you?" Simmons sat up straight in his armchair.

"You, are to track her down! Tear this city apart, kidnap and interrogate people. Anything that you must do; just get it done. The Last Mother is among them. If we can get her back, then the whole of this country falls right into my hand. The blood of a goddess offers endless possibilities. It's nothing short of a horrific crime to leave Gwenevere alive."

"So, you want to be a king now eh?" Heleana chided him. Simmons glowered at her.

"I want power Heleana. And I swear on Karras's grave, that I'll have it."

Heleana brooded in silence for a moment, then withdrew a purple velvet sack from her purse.

"Then...you'll be needing this beauty back." Simmons took the sack from her and opened it. Inside, was a large, star-cut ruby. Simmons' lips parted, and he gave the most unsettling smile.

The Trickster's Foresight, was back in his possession.

"Wherever did you find it?"

"Aldous had it. And belive me; he's been punished most grievously for stealing it from you." The blonde's hazel eyes gleamed with an inorganic sheen. "He underestimated what a child of Karras can do..."


	63. Chapter 66

The night air seemed particularly stale that evening. Garrett shivered slightly under his thick leathers. Even they weren't enough to keep him warm from the barbaric city winter. It was even colder in Nethalzia, and the thief was suddenly filled with a newfound relief that he had deigned to practice his art there. Basso's latest tipoff had brought him to the Wieldstrom Museum in Auledale, a site he had visited only once before. Garrett wondered if they had managed to recover any of those relics. Would The Eye be back? Would it speak to him again?

Questions would have to wait. The object he now sought was a radiant gem known as the Seven Shades, aptly named because of the fact that it was composed of seven rare jewels that had been magically fused together by unknown sources ages ago. A ruby, amber, yellow opal, peridot, sapphire, amethyst, and pink diamond. Just from the description given, the thief was feeling very tempted to keep this beauty for himself.

"Unfortunately, I happen to need the rent money...sometimes I really miss the clock tower..." He sighed. Taking a last look around the parameter for patrolling members of the watch, the thief darted into the shadows of the enormous marble building.

No sooner had he ventured inside, when he was greeted by an unsuspected surprise...

Garrett released an inaudible growl. How unfortunate did his fate have to be?! Of all the other thieves and thugs in the city, what were the chances of HER being the one he encountered?

Gwenevere faced him now; mustered up a boldness that etched across her pursed lips and lustrous emerald eyes. Difficult to hold his fierce gaze; difficult to burn her eyes through his to unlock the chest to his wandering soul. She searched through the wild bi-colored eyes of her teacher, attempting to reveal a well concealed lie bound tightly beneath his tongue. Words that would never slip out with his smoky, cynical voice; the kind that echoes through minds and causes nerves shiver. Not fear; not unkind disposition; but a spark of interest, the way one flows with the sweet recognition of music. Curiosity.

He stared right back at her, and she could swear he was traveling through her pounding heart, her electrified veins, her burning cheeks. She could feel herself weakening. Collapsing into his mesmerizing, captivating glory. As her instinctive fears constantly predicted, she knew she was submerging under water too deep.

Treacherous realms.

Gwenevere missed him with all of her heart. She wanted him back. She wanted, THEM back. But for the sake of her cause, she had to remain vigilant. She had to beat the thief at his own game. She had to best him at his art. She was with the Growers now, and they were counting on her to retrieve this gem. No longer under Garrett's command, Gwenevere was free to use her magic once more in said endeavour, and she had been experimenting with some of her lesser spells lately. Such as a detection hex, which she could use to sense enemies through walls via telepathic energy. But this spell was still very weak, and unfamiliar to the little nymph.

Thus, it had failed to alert her to the presence of her thief.

"Garrett?! What do you think you're doing?!"

"What's it look like?" He snorted, reaching for the gem. Gwenevere bristled at his rudeness.

In one swift motion, she slapped his expecting hand away from her coveted prize. The thief's eyes went wide with disbelieving shock.

How dare she?!

"Back off! This is too much for a neophyte like you to handle." Garrett hissed. Gwenevere's green eyes leered into his.

"I don't think so Garrett!"

"Gwenevere, get out. Now." He continued, his tone more threatening than before.

"No." She squeaked in protest.

They stared at each other for several moments, until finally, Garrett released an exhausted groan. His face softened with mild remorse, and he took a step backwards.

Then, he uttered the unexpected.

"Please. I don't want to have to knock you out." He reached for and pulled out his blackjack.

"Oh come on! You can't." Gwenevere mocked him, smirking in a jovial fashion.

She thought their history together would prevent the thief from completing his job. She was badly mistaken.

"I can..." His mechanical eye pierced through the shadows with a metallic shimmer, "...and I will if I have to. I'll try asking you one more time, and then things will get forceful. Leave Gwenevere. Now."

The two stared at each other, time slowing to an unpleasant crawl. The thief didn't want to hurt her, but he had a job to do. Blackjack still in hand, Garrett took a silent breath and prepared to do what was necessary.

RRRING! RRRING! RRRING! RRRING!

The museum security deleted all plan, all thought. Lights of red flashed above the metal doors as they began to slowly close. Adrenaline now pumping its way through his body, Garrett swiped the gem, and skidded underneath before the entryway was sealed.

"Oh no you don't!" Gwenevere screamed, coming after him.

The young woman barely managed to slide under the heavy iron door before it crushed her. Garrett chanced a brief look over his shoulder at her, slightly impressed by her agility. It was hard to belive that the fleet-footed nymph behind him had once been terribly clumsy and obnoxiously loud. He still remembered her escapade in the air shaft at Cunningham's Boutique; how it had nearly gotten them both caught.

His reminiscing provided all the distraction Gwenevere required. Thrusting her arms out in front of her, she sent her vines slithering after the thief's feet. They tangled around his boots, and caused him to stumble.

"Damn it Gwenevere!" He cursed as he hit. With a playful giggle, the young woman casually approached the fallen thief, and plucked the gem from the floor in front of him.

"Thank you." She teased, sticking out her tongue. Garrett ground his teeth as she started to run. Reaching behind into his quiver, he withdrew his new bow and a single water arrow.

"No ya don't!" He growled quickly.

Taking aim at the circuit board just beyond where Gwenevere was heading, the thief let the arrow fly. It hit its mark with utmost perfection, causing electricity to sputter and crackle wildly from the circuit board. Gwenevere yelped and leapt back as a bolt of blue current nearly grabbed at her arm. Then, with a last moan of protest, the power in the museum waned into blackness.

Gwenevere instantly began to panic. She had never liked the dark. The uncertain sensations only intensified when she found that all the exit doors were now hopelessly sealed shut from the power outage.

"Ugh! Well that's just great! Now we're locked in here!" She whined. With an annoyed grunt, Garrett got to his feet and approached her.

"That's what happens when you play dirty." He reprimanded.

"You're one to talk!" She retorted.

"Look! All you had to do was give me the taffing gem. Was that really so difficult?!"

"I need it. The Growers need it! We're gonna help the city with it Garrett! What are you gonna do, sell it?"

"Yeah. I'm going to put it to good use; unlike you." He countered dryly. Gwenevere fumed.

"Can you at least turn the lights back on?" A smirk of mischief contorted across the thief's face, and his eyes narrowed.

"Alright..."

Gwenevere shrieked as the flash bomb exploded a blast of white all around her. Temporarily blinded, she felt as Garrett tore the gem from her palm.

"GARRETT!" She screamed for him as he raced away.

He glanced backwards momentarily, his heart still pounding from running coupled with excitement. It had been a very long time since a job had given him this much thrill, and as much as he disliked to admit it, Garrett knew exactly why this was. Gwenevere. The noise of the constant alarm drowned out any other sound in his mind, and his ears were now throbbing along with it. He had to get out of there.

Eventually, Garrett reached a large stained glass window. It depicted a visage of a verdant mountainside, rich with life. Taking out another arrow, this one a blunt-sided projectile, the thief faced the window and prepared to shatter the artistic barricade.

It had been a long night, and he was ready to go home.

About fifty yards behind him now, Gwenevere was advancing across the marble. Garrett looked up at the window again, and gave a decisive nod. She wasn't his anymore. Not his lover. Not his student. Nothing.

_All that matters now, is getting out of here with the gem in tow. Ignore her. Focus on completing the job. _

Once again, Garrett let his arrow fly. He shielded his face from the glass as the blunt-tipped arrow collided with the window, bringing a barrage of rainbow glass shards down around him. He glanced back at Gwenevere. She was closing in now, about twenty feet away. He wasn't sure how far a nymph could extend her vines, and he wasn't sticking around to give her any opportunity to stop his escape.

The thief withdrew another projectile, this time a rope arrow. He took careful aim at the scaffolding that ran along the opposite roof, and fired...

CRASH!

The shot went wide as Garrett lost control of his bow. Gwenevere's vines held him again, and this time, she wasn't about to let go. Slowly, she walked to his side, and glowered down at him.

"Give it to me. Now." She snarled.

"Nice try Gwenevere, but I'm not finished with you yet..." Garrett grinned, preparing to toss another flash bomb at her.

The loud sound of the metal doors being opened caused him to halt however. With a unified cry, several elite members of the city watch advanced upon the two thieves, swords and crossbows at the ready. Garrett watched as Gwenevere proceeded to defend herself, her thorny vines slamming two of the guards hard against the wall, knocking a painting to the floor. This was his chance. He got to his feet and fired his arrow. This time, the projectile found its mark deep within the wooden platform.

As he reached for the taut woven rope, his feet cemented to the ground. Try as he might, Garrett could not bring himself to continue forward. To escape without Gwenevere. He turned around, and impatiently watched as she disabled the remaining guards. Gwenevere hadn't killed any of them this time, but they wouldn't be on the job again any time soon.

Once she was finished, she met his hardened gaze. Eying the gem in his pouch, she started towards it again, but then stopped herself. Instead, Gwenevere looked up at him, her wild green eyes positively on fire.

"Garrett. Please. I really, really need that gem." She begged.

"Likewise. I'm not about to give it up to you Gwenevere." She slumped in defeat as he prepared to depart again. Then, a last resort found her thoughts.

"What if I pay for it? Whatever Basso's offering, I'll give you double." The thief stopped short and gawked at her, fighting to hide his amazement.

"Where'd you get that kind of coin? I thought you and your old man weren't speaking." He huffed.

"You know that Simmons isn't my-" Gwenevere began to rant, but somehow stopped herself. "-How much do you want Garrett?"

"Depends. How much you got?"

"Garrett!"

"Alright, fine. 2000 gold." Gwenevere sighed heavily, then produced a heavy-looking burlap sack tied with braided grass.

"There should be more than that amount in here, only it's in pure nuggets and rare stones. Would that bother you?" She kept the sack locked firmly within her hands. She knew better than to hand it off before getting her gem first. Garrett shot her a knowing look.

"Are you joking?"

"Is that a yes or a no?" She snapped.

"What do you think?"

"Cut the crap already!"

"Alright, alright. Yes." He replied, growing impatient with her.

Quickly and firmly, the two exchanged their goods. Grappling the rope again, Garrett prepared for departure. But before he could vacate, Gwenevere's voice caught his eardrums one last time.

"Garrett?"

"Yeah?" He quipped nonchalantly to hide his yearning for her.

"It was...very nice to see you again..."

She looked down at the black and white marble floor, feeling her face flush. The thief looked over his shoulder at her, his eyes absorbing her sadness and need, overlapping his own in unbearable suffering.

He answered her only with a nod before vanishing into the star-filled night.


	64. Chapter 67

His sack of gems and gold was heavy indeed, but Garrett couldn't feel it. With every determined step, only one thought consumed his thoughts.

Erin.

Somehow, he had to find her. After nearly a month of searching, he was growing extremely uneasy. If she was still alive, what were her captors doing to her now?!

The gristly and disturbing imagery he had been presented with at the Moria Asylum still haunted him. The blood on that table, those tools. If that accursed room had been locked off for years prior, then there was only one person it could have belonged to.

A shiver ran down his spine. Where was she!? Did those same people have her, and if so, what had they put her through since!? The thief fought hard to distract his thoughts.

_Stay focused on the job. It's all about the job..._

He repeated these words again and again as he neared the abandoned chapel looming in the distance. There was someone there who could possibly help him.

The Queen of Beggars was located atop her makeshift 'throne', and from the look of her distant expression, she was fast asleep. Garrett gave her brutish guards a detached stare, until he finally caught their attention.

"Is she going to be waking up anytime soon?" He grumbled to one. Before the thug could respond, the elder stirred.

"I was not sleeping Garrett. Just, resting." The white-haired woman sat up with a kind smile. "Have you come seeking my council? It's been a very long time."

"You're just lonely. I was here six months ago." Garrett murmured.

The Queen of Beggars gave an amused, slightly sympathetic chuckle. It sounded like gunpowder intertwined within a delicate hum.

"Time passes at a different rate for you, so it would seem." She smiled. "So, why have you come to pay a lonely old woman a visit then? Word on the street is that you've fled the city after what the watch has accused you of. Not that I belive a word of it, mind you. You're no killer." Garrett turned to face her, his eyes wild with determination.

"I'm looking for someone." The old woman leaned forward in her throne, her back popping slightly. The thief, now had her full attention.

"Now that, is unexpected indeed. You, risking your very life to come to the aid of another. Who is this incredibly lucky individual?"

Garrett removed the black mask from his face, allowing his hot breath to escape more freely. He sighed, his lips parted slightly.

"Erin. The girl I raised."

"Ahh, you called out for her in your sleep many a time while we worked to heal you. I belive that it was your devotion to her, that pulled you from the grasp of eternal slumber." Garrett scoffed.

"Perhaps."

"But dearie. Didn't you tell us that she was...that she had..."

"I thought so myself. But recent...incidents...have led me to understand otherwise."

His presence was more icy than usual to her. She could also feel something foreign emanating from his distanced demeanor. A gentle, precious freedom that the Queen of Beggars had only felt from one individual before. She shakily braced herself against the arms of her chair to stand, her helpers rushing to gingerly aid her. Noticing this, Garrett stared at her.

"So, my old instincts have yet to wane."

"Come again?"

"I may be blind Garrett, but I'm far from senseless. And I can sense the presence of the Last Mother all over you."

Garrett's eyes widened. His arms went limp to the sides of his body, and his pulse quickened rapidly. An image of the little nymph with the endless ruby hair flashed before his waking eyes, causing his pupils to contact with intense emotion.

"How do you know Gwenevere?!" Garrett demanded.

"I belive the more interesting answer, would be how YOU do..." The thief folded in on himself at the unexpected inquiry. There was no easy way to explain that. No quick answer. She had been so many things to him. She was a better student than Erin, and a better lover than Viktoria. Love her? No, that didn't even begin to describe it.

The feelings he had harbored for Gwenevere had no name.

His mouth still agape, Garrett managed a poor and barely audible response.

"I..."

"You do not need to explain anything to me, Master Thief. I already know." The wizened old woman smiled with peaceful serenity. "Although I am curious as to why she is not by your side now."

A forgotten scar suddenly tore across his chest with infernal ferocity. He bit his bottom lip, and curled his calloused fingers into a tight fist. He began to reflect on his life with the young woman. How innocent she was, how honest and loyal she had been. Gwenevere had killed for him, nearly died for him.

It was then that the truth caught up to him. The facts that he had blocked and denied in his stubborn ways.

She had been taught to be just like him. Aloof and secretive. Gwenevere would have followed his advice blindly to her death. Her nymph free spirit and unnatural devotion to him; the love she so openly and freely gifted him with had been mistaken for recklessness and insidious betrayal.

Garrett clenched his teeth, shuddering silently. She hadn't meant to hurt him; she had been trying to listen to him, and possibly, protect him from the realms of unspeakable anguish that Erin's fate had since brought.

His eyes twitched with a mixture of hysteria and rage. The fact that a demi-goddess wanted to learn from a mortal man at all; give herself to him...that was a miracle in itself. Gwenevere had been a rare gift, and frankly, she had been the only gift Garrett had ever received. Now, that precious blessing was gone from him, due to his own callous nature.

"She's not with me anymore. I told her to go." He managed.

"But why, Garrett? Has your heart really grown so cold?"

"Maybe, I don't know..." He muttered quickly. The Queen of Beggars smiled.

"You know, there is a huge difference between being cynical, and being heartless. I think we both know just which of the two you are."

Bitter loss was quickly masked by hardened arrogance once more.

"She was in my best interest at one point, yes. But that was before she lied to me. Betrayed me."

He tried to hide behind his earlier beliefs about Gwenevere again, hoping that they would halt the guilt that now threatened to engulf his person. But the veil had been lifted, and his self-trickery was all but futile. Knowing this, Garrett started away from the old crone, her solace no longer comforting to him.

Until...

"You mean, by keeping Erin's whereabouts a secret from you? That's what you belive she did, isn't it?"

The look Garrett gave her at that moment must have been extremely menacing, because both of the elders bodyguards abruptly moved in front of her to wall her off. Garrett gave them a bemused stare. Did they honestly think that he was going to hurt the old woman?

"That's none of your business! How do you even know about that?!"

"I have eyes all around the city, dear thief."

She turned her empty eyes up to the storm stained heavens. Dawn was beginning to break. She could feel the first droplets of morning dew as they nestled within the wrinkles of her weathered skin.

"That's enough boys, no need to be so nasty." She gently touched the elbows of both of her protectors. The burly men gave the thief one last threatening leer, then took a step backwards.

"What more do you know about what happened that night? Where Erin might be?" The thief bravely asked.

"More than you know..." She faced her blind optics directly into his eyes, as if she still could see the burning fires within. "I worked for Simmons for years before he stole that poor child away from her people. I had the honor of being her nanny back in those dark days, until I lost my vision. Then the sadistic goat kicked me out into the street." She snarled, her ancient tone wavering. Garrett continued to listen, genuinely intrigued by her story.

"How long did you know she was a nymph? The Last Mother everyone talks about?" The Queen of Beggars burst out laughing.

"Ohhh! We all knew. The moment Simmons brought her through that door, his ceremonial Mechanist robes drenched in fresh blood. How he ever expected anyone to belive that Gwenevere was his child was beyond me then, and now, pure madness. But I think he had the others fooled a bit better than me anyway. They thought he'd just kidnapped a random Pagan child for reasons unknown. But I always knew what she was."

"It never bothered you that you were babysitting a goddess that could end you in one instant?"

"Did it bother you when you lived with her? Shared your bed with her?" The old woman smiled. "Blood does not define. It merely is necessary for staying alive. Gwenevere is no deity of wrath, she's a lost young lady who wants nothing more than to rediscover the life that was stolen from her long ago."

Garrett remained silent. He believed that too.

"I wanted her to have it back. I urged her to practice her powers, and to never give up on her freedom. But when she finally got it, she did the unexpected." The old woman continued.

"What? What did she do?"

"She told me never to mention it, but something tells me that you need to know." The elder took a deep breath, and her sparkle faded. "Gwenevere instructed me to tell you that my beggars found you. But in truth, it was she who plucked you from that rubble heap. The wood beast brought you to me, dropped your all but lifeless body at my feet. I sat in silence as she healed your broken ribs, the pain she absorbed causing her to scream. I listened to the way she held you as you convulsed, and felt the great desperation locked within her eyes."

Garrett listened intently to each word the old woman spoke. It..had been Gwenevere? He had always had doubts about how a few vagrants could manage to gain access to Northcrest Manor, yet alone drag his battered body away undetected.

"Oh Garrett. She wanted to save you both; and she still does. Even as we speak, I sense that Gwenevere is planning to see you again. To aid you."

"I don't need her. I don't need anyone. I work alone." Garrett replied gruffly, his words poorly concealing his agony.

"Garrett. What you want, and what you need, are never the same thing. I've come to know that what we want in life is the greatest indication of who we really are. And when you want someone this badly, you don't just give up. You simply can't."

"What should I do then?"

"If you don't get what you want, you suffer; if you get what you don't want, you suffer; even when you get exactly what you want, you still suffer because you can't hold on to it forever. You ask me what you should do? Find her. Hold onto her. Never let her go again."

"But..."

"Listen to me. I've known Gwenevere since she was a child. Never had I seen more deliverance and promise within her, than when she was fighting to save your life on that misty morning. She would never betray you, and yes, she'll forgive you Garrett."

"What of Erin?" He pleaded, his voice beginning to crack with emotion.

"Find Gwenevere. In turn, she will help you find Erin."


	65. Chapter 68

"You did very well Gwenevere; but then, what else would I be expecting from the fabled Last Mother?"

Dawson smiled, his eyes glistening in time to the shimmering gem of seven glorious colors. The nymph looked down at her prize. It was indeed a gorgeous wonder, the only one of its kind. Just like her.

"Thank you Dawson. I...once had a very good teacher."

"Beg your pardon? Teacher?" He was growing inquisitive at her last statement. Perhaps this mysterious teacher held the explanation to why she was acting so human in her mannerisms and abilities. Why her powers were not what his people had been expecting.

Gwenevere looked up through wide, surprised eyes. She had never expected to be asked about Garrett here. And she did not intend to answer this question. Even if it had been directly asked.

"Umm, yes."

"Who was this, teacher, and what did they teach you?" Gwenevere tensed.

Then, a strange, protective sensation consumed her. She narrowed her eyes in defiance.

"Do you truly think it wise to be asking the Last Mother so many questions?" She snarled. She watched as Dawson slunk back, and a sudden dismal sensation filled her.

For this was the very first time, that Gwenevere had ever refered to herself as 'The Last Mother'.

For years, others had titled her as such, but she had never once used the term herself. She wanted for nothing more than to be normal. And being the demi-goddess child of two powerful Pagan figures was about as far from normal as one could be. If she was agreeing with the beast inside her, the dark promises it uttered...then she was slipping even further than expected.

Sophie was right. She needed to get away from this place! The Growers were corrupting her, or rather, Gwenevere's desire to aid them in their crusade, was causing her to corrupt herself.

"I-I'm sorry, m'lady! I-it shall never happen again, I-" Dawson stammered, once again flooded with primeval terror. Gwenevere's soft touch against his shoulder halted his rushed departure.

"Wait. Dawson. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say those things. I didn't mean to frighten you. Please, I need you to forgive ME!" She pleaded desperately.

Dawson gawked at her, his face growing deathly pale.

SHE, was asking HIM to forgive HER?!

"I..."

"I don't know what came over me. I'm sorry." Gwenevere looked down at her feet. "I have to go and speak with my friend."

She started away from the Grower temple to seek out Sophie.

"Gwenevere."

Dawson's voice caused her to skid to a stop. The heels of her boots made a loud squeak that echoed and reverberated around the hollow temple. She looked over her shoulder with lost, unsure eyes. Dawson saw this, and it troubled him greatly.

_She may have forgotten herself, but perhaps I can help her remember..._

With a hint of reluctance, the Grower leader came to her back. He took in her petite, delicate form, and then he clasped both of her shoulders. Gwenevere gasped as his hot breath found her ears. The sensation was reminiscent of the way Garrett's stubble felt against her earlobe, but it was still very different. However, the similarity was enough to cause her great pain.

"Gwenevere...will you come with me please?" Dawson purred. Gwenevere shuddered as he continued to twist hot breath around her ears and senses.

"Where to?" She shuddered, now feeling extremely uncomfortable by what Dawson was causing her to feel.

"Just follow me, my sweet lady."

Gwenevere turned around and stared at him suspiciously. A slight frown found her face.

"I don't know if I should."

"Do whatever you feel comfortable with. I'll be waiting for you if you change your mind. There is a special place at the heart of the temple, behind a hidden panel. It would give me utmost pleasure to show it to you."

"A special place?" She inquired.

"A garden, rich with life and color." Dawson nodded. "So Gwenevere, would you like to see it? It is your garden after all."

"Mine?"

"But of course! This entire temple was erected in your honor, m'lady! It would be nothing short of a crime if you didn't get to enjoy it in its entirety." He exclaimed.

Well, if that's the case..." Gwenevere closed her eyes and managed a large, self-comforting smile. "Sure, just for a little while!"

Gwenevere followed Dawson down the darkened hallways of the Grower Temple. She craned her neck and looked upwards out of a mixture of boredom and anxiety. The moment she did so, Gwenevere gaped in wonder at the ceiling.

It was painted in colorful and detailed depictions of various forest creatures dancing and dwelling around a marvelous red maned woman. Her body was wrapped in thick green vines and two white roses concealed her supple breasts, one over each areola. Gwenevere's pupils dilated as her weary mind finally understood what she was looking at.

The woman in the painting, was her.

"Is it to your liking?" Dawson asked, noticing her expression.

"It's amazing...but, that can't possibly be me."

"Why not?"

"Well, for one thing I don't have vines on my body or roses on my..." She blushed silently, unable to bring herself to say the word 'breasts'. It seemed an inappropriate word for a girl to speak. "...It just seems so strange."

"It must be frightening to you. Please tell me Gwenevere, what happened to you? Where has this life taken you?"

"Pardon?"

"Well, you obviously didn't grow up in the woods as predicted. Something must have caused your departure." A sharp pang at her heart, causing her fading memories to torment her again. Gwenevere shook her head violently.

"I...I can't really answer that."

"Why ever not?" Dawson inquired, growing concerned.

"It's painful." She managed to keep her tears locked within her green eyes.

"Ah." Dawson nodded, lowering his head in empathy. "I am sorry...for whatever it is that burdens you so." He finished his sentence softly, placing a hand on Gwenevere's shoulder.

"Dawson?" Gwenevere looked up to meet his gaze, her eyes a swirling torrent of greens and golds. "I-I'm so very afraid..."

"Gwenevere."

He eased forward and hesitantly and loosely cradled her body. Gwenevere tensed at this, her nervousness towards Dawson's strange touch still apparent. But then she began to speak.

"I-I lay awake in my bed, and I cry myself to sleep every night Dawson." She whimpered.

"Gwenevere, why?"

"Because I don't know what to do with my life anymore."

Gwenevere closed her eyes and let the tears flow freely across her face. At that instant, she would have given anything just to be Garrett's apprentice again. Even if he hated her forever, her dire need to just stand beside him was more powerful than any feeling she'd experienced thus far in her short life.

Dawson felt frozen as she cried into his thin brown jerkin. Her tears were both soothing and painful to his flesh; but the sounds of her cries were almost unbearable in their tragedy. Her behaviour left him questioning what force could possibly cause a goddess to bend to her knees in unfathomable and utterly defeated sorrow.

Steadying his posture, he found comfort once more. Somehow.

"Come with me to the garden." He smiled, taking up her hand in his.

Gwenevere looked up and gave him a decent smile. No words passed between the two as they progressed further into the Grower temple. At least, until Gwenevere beheld the garden.

The two walked hand in hand until they came to a large stone statue of a great stag. Dawson released her and pressed his hand firmly against the green stone located in the creature's chest. Instantly, the statue began to shift its way to the right, and the obsidian stone wall behind it gave a low rumble before descending below ground. The way to the garden, had been revealed.

Gwenevere was filled with wonder by the sight that she beheld.

Tall trees, thick with fruit reached up their branches to the cyan sky, and soft moss and grass covered the cool forest floor. A serene river was flowing slowly through the clearing, its crystalline water icy and pure. Thick vines weaved their way over the heavy trunks of the trees, and the pewter rocks. The young womans tears turned to laughter at the sight of the fauna. Everything, from lumbering burricks to lively frog beasts inhabited this secret place. A vivid expression of comfort illuminated across Gwenevere's once forlorn face.

This verdant garden, was heaven on earth.

"What do you think?" Dawson asked knowingly.

"It's so perfect..." She whispered. "I feel...I feel such peace here. Such purpose."

"Enjoy it Gwenevere, for it is yours. You are home." The Grower leader replied earnestly.

Gwenevere watched as a baby burrick took notice of her and sniffed the air in her direction before scampering back to its mother's side. As much as she wanted to belive that, she couldn't help but feel a nagging torment at the back of her mind.

Garrett. Even if he hated her, Gwenevere HAD to see him again.

And she wouldn't have long to wait...


	66. Chapter 69

Garrett pushed the brush aside as he travelled through the dense forest. From deep within, he could hear beastly growls, coupled by horrifying screeches. Most likely the victims of whatever creatures stalked these woods.

The thief kept on the ever ready alert for danger as he made his way in deeper. The forest seemed darker to him than ever before. Garrett was no stranger at navigating the Pagan Wood. He'd been to the most dangerous area, The Maw, more times than he would like to remember. The sparser areas that loomed on the outskirts of the city were nothing for him now.

But he was nonetheless, terrified this time. Anything could leap out of the tall trees, and all he had to defend himself with, was his bow and arrows, and two remaining flash bombs. He had been so preoccupied with his last few jobs and the dramas of his personal life, that he had yet to restock any of his usual supplies.

And there was serious unrest here tonight...

In actuality, he had no idea where the Grower Compound even was. But he did have a decent lead. The crushed, dirt path that he was trailing now. Pagans didn't make such trails. They considered it destructive and disrespectful to the Woodsie Lord. Apparently the Growers were distanced enough in their beliefs to disagree. Garrett stopped and gazed longingly up through the trees at the first shards of sunlight as they filtered down.

The slight possibility of this trail being made by vagrants or even criminals had crossed his mind. However, Garrett had tackled worse within this place, and he had no intention of allowing Gwenevere to remain here. She was now his only hope for finding Erin.

And furthermore, she was his last chance...

He emerged into the moonlight after only fifteen minutes of easy travel. He was positively exhausted after the heist at the museum, and being out all night did nothing to remedy that. He had missed his train back to Nethalzia, and it would be another four hours before the next one would arrive. At this rate, the Master Thief knew that he would probably be missing that one as well.

He had heard rumors of this new faction, and Basso's description appeared to be right on the money. Farmers combined with monks. Garrett gawked at the large red brick structures, and the obsidian temple bathed in sunlight.

The place was nothing short of idyllic. Farmers dressed in their brown and tan cult ensembles plowed the field and went about their chores in the mid-morning light. The children ran about, their joyous laughter flooding his eardrums. The elders and women sat out on their porches; mending clothes and churning butter, contented smiles upon their placid faces.

The thief had to admit; this seemed like a pretty pleasant place to live.

"Garrett!?" A strong female voice rang through the serenity.

Garrett whirled around, surprised to find none other than Basso's sister behind him, looking dumbstruck.

"Sophie?!" He crooked an eyebrow in disbelief. "Don't tell me that you've decided to join up with these nuts."

"No. I'm trying my best to put back together the precious heart you shattered." Her eyes burned as she spoke. Sophie crossed her arms and began tapping her foot against the forest floor. "What are YOU doing here?"

"I...came to see Gwenevere actually."

All anger and contempt drained away from Sophie's tired face. Her eyes went wide and she paled in wonder at the thief's unexpected announcement.

"You...you came back for her?" She whispered, tears of joy welling up in her eyes.

Garrett nodded, but he didn't speak. He had nothing more to say to her. He wanted to find Gwenevere now.

"That's great! Oh Garrett...I'm so glad you finally came to your taffin' senses! But don't let the Growers see you, or they'll-"

"Miss?" Dawson's voice called out.

The Grower leader approached where the two outsiders now stood. Garrett tensed upon recognizing the young man. It was the same boy he had knocked unconscious during Gwenevere's industry job. Dawson stopped short and stared at Garrett. He recognized him, as well. But not from that night. And he didn't lead on as such.

"Excuse me sir, can we help you with something?" Dawson spoke in his warm, welcoming tone. Garrett got right to the point.

"Where's Gwenevere?" Dawson's eyes narrowed.

"She's not to be disturbed by outsiders. Leave now."

Sophie looked at him, worried by his drastic shift in disposition. She bravely decided to try and intervene.

"Leader Dawson, this man is a friend of mine, and more importantly, of Gwenevere." She reasoned. But Dawson was having none of it. He continued to leer at Garrett, a deep rage welling up within his chest.

"Away with you Sophie. I wish to address this 'friend' of yours in private." He growled. Sophie started to protest, but the thief held out his hand to her.

"It's fine Sophie. Go."

"I...as you wish."

She bowed her head in mild disdain, then started away. She looked over her shoulder out of concern once, before descending back down the knoll.

The Master Thief and the Grower Leader, were left alone.

Garrett stared at Dawson, an utterly disgusted sneer appearing upon his face.

"Alright. Where the hell is she?"

"That is no longer any of your concern Garrett. You turned on her, she's with us now."

"How do you know-"

In an instant, Dawson thrust his hands at Garrett's body, and a blast of sheer green nature magic surged from his hands. The thief let out a painful cry as a green fire seared up his arm and ignited throughout his body. He was thrust violently to the wet ground. Then, as quickly as it had begun, the firey pain thankfully ceased. Garrett opened his eyes, drenched in a thick sweat. Dawson was glaring down at him, wicked ferocity written across his face.

"Foul Outsider! You shall never take Gwenevere from us!" Dawson snarled, his palms sizzling with magical essence and silver sparks.

Garrett's eyes grew dark as they met those of the Grower leader.

"Gwenevere? I thought you freaks refered to her as 'The Last Mother'."

Instantly, both men knew perfectly well what either's intention was for the lost little nymph.

A shared goal.

Dawson was the first to speak, Garrett still appalled by the news and disabled from the sudden attack.

"Keep away from her thief. I will not see her stolen from this place. From me."

In a flash of silver light, the Grower leader disappeared. Garrett shakily stood. A million questions raced through his weary mind. Who was this Dawson? What was he planning? His worries were great, but not nearly as powerful as the tugging urge he now had to get Gwenevere out of this place. To set things right again.

"Leave without treasure in tow? Tch, yeah. Apparently you don't know me." The thief chuckled dryly.

Morning within her private paradise was still and silent. Even the songbirds had ceased to sing. Gwenevere sat on the river bank, watching as the last of the sunrise burst into a sea of saffron splendor, laced with puffy clouds.

"Gwenevere?"

The all too familiar smoky voice that found her ears brought with it a feeling too beautiful to describe. Gwenevere felt as her wild green eyes became aglow with dancing flames as she watched her thief gradually ease his way out of the confines of shadow and foliage.

"Garrett!"

In an instant she was on her feet, although she couldn't for the life of her explain how it had happened. She burst into tears and extended her arms, silently pleading for him. Garrett's eyes widened as his Gwenevere plowed into him, embracing his warm, leather-bound chest tightly. As the warmth of her tears found his heart, his demeanour changed drastically. The thief wrapped his arms around her upper back, and pulled the young woman into his awaiting lips. She let her body fall into his strong grasp, as he kissed her passionately.

"My Gwenevere," he whispered in a hoarse and choked voice, "I understand now."

It was far from the apology he had planned on, but it was all the stubborn man could manage. And its message was heard.

Gwenevere continued to sob into his chest and her fingers clawed at his hair.

"I'm so happy you're back with me!"

Gwenevere turned her head and he quickly leaned in and brushed his lips across her earlobe. Hot breath found her neglected cavity, filling her with passionate desperation. Garrett's lips twitched with amusement as he delighted in her resulting shiver.

"I-it was all my fault Garrett, I know! I should have told you everything, I should have-"

"-Never wasted your splendor on an old rogue like me." He interrupted her, feeling as desire erupted all over his body. "My beautiful Gwenevere; you're far to precious. You were never mine to take, let alone abandon."

"Garrett..." she panted, "don't worry so much. Remember what I told you before? You don't need to love me. I understand. No matter what you do to me, where you go. Even when you die, I'll always belong to you." Garrett frowned, still holding onto her to where she could not see.

If she only knew...

If he could only bring himself to tell her.

"Gwenevere. I'm not here to talk about that." He replied, twining his fingers into her ruby hair and pulling her petal-like lips over his own mouth, enveloping her into a deep kiss. His tongue traced her bottom lip. "I'm here to steal you away from this place. Come with me."

When Gwenevere felt his calloused hand against her exposed flesh, she looked up at the thief, an unspoken hurt reflected in her expression. Concerned by this, Garrett reached for her trembling shoulder.

"Gwenevere?"

"No, I can't..." She spoke softly, her emerald gaze becoming very serious. "I need to help the Growers now."

She hated to speak those words, hated to see the pain they caused her thief to feel. She knew that it was better for her to leave. Every day she had been here, Gwenevere could feel the Wood Beast gaining leverage over her. Corrupting her into permanently taking its foul form. But she had also made a promise to Dawson. To the young mother and her two daughters that he had saved and ushered into the order. They were the same young family that had first sparked her desire to aid the city, and the innocent young woman had taken it as a sign that she should stay.

No matter what the cost, she had to be the savior this crazy town was desperately crying out for.

Garrett released a stressed grunt as he stretched his long legs in an attempt to get comfortable. Something told him that he was going to be here for a while.

Unable to look at him, the little nymph stared transfixed upon her reflection in the crystal pool. It seemed to be trembling even more than she was. Flooded with an inconceivable terror of the unknown.

The unspoken.

Garrett's heart sank with disappointment.

"Gwenevere, is there even the smallest chance that you will change your mind..."

"I won't!" she snapped irritably. "How can I prove that to you? Don't you think I know my own mind? My own heart? Don't you think I know myself?" She narrowed her gaze and played her final card. "Either you trust me or you don't Garrett. Choose."

Her words halted him. Garrett stared into her. Did he trust her or not?

Part of her secret still bothered him, and the thief wondered what else she was hiding. Regardless as to why she was doing it. Garrett closed his eyes and lightly pressed his forehead to hers.

Yes. Yes he did.

"Gwenevere, come on. We need to leave this place. Dawson is crazy. His Growers are crazy. And they're going to drive YOU crazy in time! You're not their Last Mother, no diety of destruction! You're Gwenevere, and I-" His last breath trailed off into an uncomfortable grunt.

Gwenevere stared at his unsure expression with those luminous celadon eyes that the thief secretly loved so much.

"What?" You what?"

Garrett took a deep breath, exhaled, and then stroked back a stray strand of ruby hair from her brow.

"Love you." Gwenevere gasped, her pupils contracting fully at the unexpected confession.

"W-what made you say that?! I thought you told me back at the asylum-"

"-I'm full of shit, alright? Listen to me Gwenevere; I'm in love with you. I can't explain why; I just feel it." He reached up and stroked her cheek. "As real and as intense as I feel you now. Come home with me Gwenevere. Please."

Gwenevere hesitated. She knew what had to be done. But she honestly saw no harm in returning with Garrett to Nethalzia just this once. She could always return to the compound later on to assist. After all, did she really need to live among them in order to help them?

"Yes. I'll come with you."


	67. Chapter 70

Erin's blue eyes slowly opened. Her body was clammy and feverish, beads of sweat clinging to the tips of her unkempt black hair.

"Ugh...did I dream that?"

She certainly hoped that this was the case. Otherwise, what she had just witnessed would change the way the young woman saw everything. But as her eyes swam into focus, she observed the large puddle of blood near the doorway. Her eyes shook with emotion and stark terror at the vivid slaughter.

It had been no dream. Aldous's murder, had been very, very real.

The metal collar around her neck buzzed, the last of its electricity spent from Heleana's failed interrogation. Erin hadn't told her captive anything. Even if he had failed her, even if Garrett had allowed her to fall that night, truth be told she had owed him her life long before then.

He had raised her to be like him. Arrogant, proud. Unstoppable. And as much as she hated to admit it to herself, Erin knew that Garrett was the only reason she had survived her fall. The nightmares that had transpired since. She was certainly tough on her own, but this was also due to the constant teachings and the six years she had lived with the thief.

Garrett had shaped that ten-year old waif like soft clay, eventually created the determined young thief that Erin now was. Before him, there had been only fear. Only pain and darkness. Much like how things were now; without him.

Once she was certain that the cruel device locked around her throat was broken, Erin raised her head to meet the stale coldness of her prison. Heleana had left saying that she would be back with another battery for the sadistic collar, but that had been at least two hours ago.

The faintest spark of hope filled her soul. Was she, per chance not coming back? Erin frowned. She doubted it. Heleana was even more brash and aggressive than she was. Her latest show of carnage was proof of that.

She began to shudder uncontrollably. Her emotions had always been as solid as stone. But now she writhed in her chains; broken. Defeated by the very demons of this city.

Uppercrust society.

Erin had always thought herself stronger than most women, and even most men she had encountered. Whether this was fact or simply due to her own brash confidence, there was never anything she couldn't handle on her own. She had been weak once, and she vowed to never be so again.

When Garrett had told her to listen after the escapade with his apartment, Erin hadn't hesitated. She left. No one would tell her how to live her life; she did what she pleased. He had taught her, as she thoughtlessly perceived, the basics. But she wanted more. She could have more. She knew how to fend for herself.

Even the House of Blossoms hadn't been so bad. Sure, she had dealt with men and their strange desires and fetishes. But Erin would just zone out and, as Garrett had always instructed her, focus on the job at hand; and the pay that came thereafter.

But as with all trials in this putrid world, there would eventually come a day when focus just wasn't enough. And unfortunately, her 'career' at the whore house had led to one such time.

The Thief-Taker General.

It was no secret that the insidious public official was a pure sadist. Madame Xiao-Xiao had tried banning him from her brothel, but due to his high public standing, Baron Northcrest wouldn't allow it. Almost every harlot had a tale to tell about how he had 'punished' them. And while the Madame had been made well aware of his particular turn-ons, unfortunately, she wasn't able to prevent every incident. And unfortunately, Erin had been one such case.

What he had done to her still brought tears to the corners of her eyes. Try as she might, Erin had found that she could not blindly focus against such abuse. No one could.

She cut her contract with the brothel rather violently after that. Never again would she do anything for a filthy noble. For anyone. An icy veil had enshrouded her heart, dousing away any of the burning ambition Erin had once had.

She didn't perform any task for profit after that. She did so, to prove her ability. To keep her sense of self-importance intact. No matter what, Erin was determined to prove to herself that she was still strong. That the general's domination and abuse did nothing to disprove that.

It was shortly thereafter, that Erin returned to Garrett.

She divulged very little about what she'd been through on her own. Only the weak relied on others for confidence or comfort. Which was why she had deigned to stay. She found her own hideout, and rarely contacted her mentor afterwards. Their cooperative heist on Northcrest manor had been the first time Erin had spoken with Garrett in nearly two years.

Waves of cool energy began to dance around her thin form. The Primal within her had become the only comfort the young woman still clung to. And it came from within her. She, comforted herself. A mildly insane grin crossed her lips.

_See? I'm more than capable of taking care of myself Garrett. I always was...always will be..._

Suddenly, her sapphire eyes flew open. The power within was calling out to her again. Within the darkened confines of her troubled mind, a vision began to emerge. A woman with long hair as red as foxfire and piercing green eyes was making her way though the city at an inhuman speed. And she was heading straight towards the factory district.

"Someone's coming..." Erin gasped.


	68. Chapter 71

Gwenevere listened to the thunderous rumble of the train as it carried her off into the night. The heavy oder of hay and animals filled the car she was situated in. She couldn't be sure what kind they had been, the scent was far too old. But her sensitive nymph nose did indicate that they had hooves. She plucked a dead, trampled piece of straw from the floor of the boxcar, twiddling it between her fingers.

Out the corner of her eye, she could see Garrett. He was resting atop a pile of more straw, his lips twitching slightly in his sleep.

Gwenevere crept closer, her movements mimicking that of a fox. Her hands like paws, they hit the steel floor in silence. This had not been her nymph blood, but rather the teachings of stealth learned from her beloved thief. She nuzzled him with her tiny nose, and he grumbled slightly as strands of her red locks found and tickled his face. Even within the grips of slumber, Garrett could sense her, smell her.

Eyes still shut, the thief smiled.

Gwenevere curled up around him, laying her head upon his chest like a loyal pet. Then, she continued to watch Garrett as he slept.

The sun was just beginning to set within the western sky, its colors a rich explosion of golds, pinks, and impending purples. Some of the bolder stars were already beginning to appear and shine within the confines of that haunting violet border where the earth and the heavens collided. The area between Nethalzia and the city was nothing but dense, uncharted forests. Gwenevere cast her observant optics down far within this lush world of greenery, hoping to see at least one Pagan, one nymph. One sign of her lost history. It wasn't long before she recoiled and once again lay her head against Garrett's chest, listening to his heart beat.

Of course there were none. There hadn't been any since that night. That horrible eve from which all of her most volatile nightmares stemmed from.

The more she remembered such things, the more disturbed she became. What had really happened that night? That horrible night on which Simmons had found her. Rescued her from an unspeakable fate at the metal claws and foul smoking canons of those 'things'. Perhaps that was the real reason she had never chosen to kill him. As much as she hated to admit it, Lord Vladimir Simmons had saved her life. Even if it was only for his own selfish gain, even if he hated her and all of her people with a vengeance. He had still kept life within her young body.

It would be many years later, during the attempted ritual at the Northcrest Manor, that Gwenevere would finally discover just why he had done this.

To sacrifice her life, once her power had at last reached its full potential.

The Primal Ritual, was already a powerful one. But with the sacrificial blood of a demi-goddess, it would have been enough to grant the wicked Lord anything he so desired. And the Baron, for that matter.

_The keys, the blood, the incantation._

The baron's gravely voice still rang though her mind. She could still feel the knife at her throat, the leer of the Tricksters Foresight as it held her paralyzed; helpless. The chanting of the cultists that surrounded her.

Then, Garrett and Erin had come. Crashed through the domed glass roof, evoked panic and disorganization. Unwittingly halted the ritual that would have taken Gwenevere's life.

Gwenevere listened as the thief moaned and exhaled softly. She wondered if he still suffered from those chronic nightmares he'd told her of. About his daughter. Erin.

Bestial instinct once more consumed her as she watched him rest. Her thief. Now that he had taken her back, she would never let him leave her side again. He had become a part of her, his soul resided within her, and his blood mingled with hers. There was absolutely no comparison, no argument. The best moments of her life had been spent with Garrett.

She had tasted the rotten coldness of life without him. Never again. At least not by choice.

Gwenevere knew that like falling leaves, beauty, and many others, the passage of time was fleeting, and it often ravished the mind and body in its wake. But even when she reached old age, even after her eyes grew tired and her flesh became hard and withered like a sick tree; the little nymph KNEW that she would never forget Garrett, or the precious life that he had gifted her.

Even after the mortal man she adored with all her heart ceased to exist, Gwenevere would never forget the joys of meeting him, or the vigor of spilling her passion out before his waking eyes.

The emerald irises of the girl gleamed in the shadows of the boxcar, and Gwenevere gave a decisive nod. At that moment, unseen by mortal eyes, the last forest nymph on earth made a vow that she would help Garrett find Erin, and deliver that blue-eyed girl from whatever fate had befallen her.

No matter what the cost.


	69. Chapter 72

The train arrived shortly thereafter within the station. The loud sound it made as it halted to a stop awakened Garrett, and he slowly got to his feet and streached. Gwenevere watched him, a gleeful grin spread out across her lips. It filled her with indescribable and invaluable happiness, to be back by his side.

The thief and his apprentice quickly dismounted the boxcar, then moved casually through the station, mingling with some of the populace along the way. Gwenevere almost giggled at the expression on the thief's face as they walked. Clearly, he was less than satisfied with having to be around these complete strangers. She had never seen him so uncomfortable before.

Gwenevere on the other hand, found this little village beyond captivating.

It reminded her of the stories her mother had told, of how the city had been; before the rise of Karras and his Mechanists. Back in those days, the 'city' had been a whimsical little village, much like this one. Street lamps composed of magic and fire lined every corner of the sleepy town, and the sensation of the dirt roads beneath her feet brought with it a long lost memory. The nymph watched as friendly villagers nodded and waved as she passed them by, and smiled as a young boy ran after his small dog, his cherubic expression bursting with joy.

_What a wonderful place... _She thought, as Gwenevere continued to follow her thief through the welcoming burg.

"Well, this is it. Home sweet home." Garrett smirked, motioning for Gwenevere to enter his apartment.

She wasted no time exploring, searching every corner of the dimly lit abode. There wasn't much here, but it was still more of a home than the dusty old clock tower had been. There were a few splintered pieces of furniture, and a large fireplace located in the living area. The kitchen was close by, joined by a small room just to the right. The bathroom. Gwenevere continued to wander about, taking in the soft scent of wood oil as she walked. Eventually, she reached the two large bedrooms located at the back of the apartment.

"Wow, Basso sure managed to get you a decent place." She gawked, when she noticed that there was still an upstairs area left to explore.

Gwenevere started to ascend the stairway, but Garrett's firm hand stopped her.

"It's a bit...rickety through there. The stairs are in a state of disrepair."

"Oh." She remarked, a bit disappointed.

"Don't worry so much. My landlord says that he'll be by to fix them this weekend." The thief smiled.

"It must be nice to have an apartment again." Gwenevere returned the gesture.

"Yeah. I suppose it is. Now I actually have a reason to steal again." He yawned loudly, still feeling a bit groggy from the nonstop events of the night before. Gwenevere smiled in his direction again before turning her attention back to the collapsing stairway.

"Ya know, I COULD use my nature magic to fix this. It would be easy!" She offered. "I could summon my vines to wrap around that rotting wood to hold it in place." Garrett gave her a curious stare.

"Gwenevere. You've certainly been less shy about using your magic lately."

"And why should I be? It was silly to try and pretend to be something I'm not."

Her words caused him to recoil in concern. He continued to stare into her bright green eyes. Dawson's earlier display of raw magic did little to alleviate said woes. What had Gwenevere been doing with the Growers over the last month? What had they taught her about their ways? About herself? Although his mind was swamped with questions, not a single one of them left his lips.

Garrett abruptly turned and focused to the pile of dirty clothes laying in a heap beside his bed. No doubt about it, his apprentice had matured and discovered much over that fleeting month. But whether for better or for worse, still had yet to be seen.

_I should have never let her go..._He sighed.

"Garrett? Need any help with those?" Gwenevere's voice chimed.

"Huh? N-no. That's alright. I'm not really going to be wearing any of those clothes anytime soon." Garrett faced her, managing a weak smile. But Gwenevere saw right through his facade.

"What's the matter?"

"It doesn't matter. Gwenevere, you know your abilities better than anyone." He bent down and touched her shoulder. "If this is what you want, then..."

"Don't worry Garrett! I've learned so much from my short time with the Growers. Dawson especially. I now can state confidently that I can handle my powers. And the Wood Beast."

Garrett crooked a worried eyebrow at her innocent grin.

"Huh. Well that's funny. Before you joined up with those nuts, you told me that you'd give anything to get rid of your magic."

"I know. But that was before I began my studies under the Growers. You probably don't know this, but the more elite members, such as Dawson know how to use nature magic too."

"Oh, I noticed." Garrett remarked grimly, recalling the blazing spell that Dawson had attacked him with.

"So anyway, they've been teaching me to control it better."

"Let me see if I got this right. You've been studying under the Growers for about a month, while you were under my instruction for closer to six. Yet you're choosing to listen to this Dawson clown over me?"

"Please don't take it so personally Garrett. You just don't understand magic the way Dawson does." Gwenevere offered remorsefully.

"Just be careful Gwenevere. I want you to fully understand what you're dealing with." The little nymph responded with a decisive nod.

"I will, promise!" She giggled.

Hours passed. Gwenevere sat perched at the window of the townhome, watching as the raindrops danced and played upon the dusty glass. Her eyes surveyed what little of the village she could make out through the dismal storm. Across the street, there was a restaurant of some kind. Although it was raining, a festive green tarp was draped over the outer porch of the eatery, allowing diners to enjoy their meals in dry comfort. The entire building was surrounded by pink roses and thick leafy ivy vines which had weaved their way up the sides of the tan bricks.

Gwenevere listened as Garrett came through the kitchen door, his leather boots squeaking against the floor. She turned around and smiled at him, observing as he plucked an apple from a nearby basket.

"Garrett! I'm starving! Let's go check out that little bistro!"

"No." He bluntly replied, taking a seat. He bit into the crisp red fruit, sweet juice sliding down his lips.

"What?! Why not? Aren't you hungry?"

"I am, but I've got plenty to eat right here."

"Aww, come on! Just an apple? That's not much of a lunch!"

"It's enough for me." He snorted, taking another juicy bite.

"Garrett, you're safe here, no one knows who you are! Heck, the town guard at the train station actually smiled at you!" The troubled girl decided to inquire. Garrett wiped his mouth and glared at her.

"I don't care if he bought me flowers alright? I'm not going outside during the day."

The young woman watched him in quiet disdain. She looked across at the bistro again, watching as a young couple left with contented smiles upon their faces. The man motioned for his lover to halt, and then produced a large dark blue umbrella for the both of them.

"Why not?"

"I belive you already asked me that." Garrett sighed, facing her. "Read my lips Gwenevere. I'm. Not. Going." He pursed. The young woman folded her arms with a huff.

"Ya know? I'm starting to think that maybe Sophie was right."

"She always thinks so anyway..." Garrett muttered under his breath, casting his eyes out the opposite window.

"She says you're stubborn." Gwenevere responded with sincere authority. Garrett pulled away from the window and smirked at her fuming expression.

"And you're just now figuring this out?" The thief chided her.

"No, but still..." She stood up and stomped her foot, causing Garrett to delight further in her antics "You could at least try to be romantic once in a while!"

"Fine Gwenevere. I'll play along. But it will have to wait until later this evening." Garrett finished his apple and tossed the core into the sink. Gwenevere felt her heart race with excitement. His reply was more than satisfactory for her.

"Okay, but I'll hold you to it." She grinned. Her thief grinned back.

"Fair enough."


	70. Chapter 73

THE GROWER COMPOUND  
>TWO WEEKS AGO:<p>

Gwenevere stood beside the Temple Keeper, except she wasn't the ruby haired, green eyed nymph this eve. Nor was he the decrepit, wizened old hermit. Tonight, they revealed their inner monsters. Wood and tree beasts sat on the edge of a great cliff. From here, both great spirits had an acute view of the forest below; and of that filth-ridden city just beyond.  
>The wood beast sat on its haunches, looking out over its kingdom through dastardly yellow eyes. In a dead language, known only to creatures of nature and nymphs, the two began to converse.<br>"Have you taken the time to reflect on my words, young one?"  
>"I have." The wood beast grunted, its voice guttural and demonic; nothing like Gwenevere's sweet and gentle tone.<br>"And?" The twisted tree monster pressed his fellow. The wood beast released a loud snort, its breath exhaling a fine yellow pollen. It looked down into the carpet of ancient trees, hundreds of feet below. It surveyed the city, its eyes filled with an unrelenting hatred for the little mancreatures within. That is, until it spotted the tallest building therein.

The clock tower.

The wood beast's eyes grew hollow and empty before being flooded by a feeling of the impossible. Regret.

Deities could never regret, they knew very little of mortal suffering. And furthermore, they did not care. But for that fleeting moment, the wood beast was no longer a feared goddess of rage and vengeance. For that moment, however short, Gwenevere's spirit managed to grab hold of it and take possession of that twisted beast of roots and vines.  
>And the nymph, was certainly more than capable of feeling such emotion. Especially in light of what had happened. What wonderful meaning the clock tower held to her, and the anguish of loosing the man within.<br>The tree beast picked up on this unseen shift in powers. He tapped the scruff of the wood beast with his branches.  
>"M'lady?" The verdant grassy beast sighed and craned its large head up to face his.<br>"I have decided to help the Growers. Garrett...well, he meant everything to me. I'll never forget him, but he'll forget me soon enough. The forest is now my only chance at a future."  
>"The manfool was wrong about you. You can never become human. Surely you know this by now, correct?"<br>"Yes."  
>"Even if he had managed to divide you and the beast, you would still be a nymph. Humans and nymphs cannot get along."<br>The wood beast, now more Gwenevere than monster, remained as silent as the world below her. No matter how wise and ancient the creature beside her was, she didn't believe his words for a second. She knew the truth. She had lived it, in what now felt as surreal as a forgotten dream.  
>But now, regardless of what she believed, it was time to wake up.<p>

"I have decided to accept my status as the Last Mother. I will be present at the ritual with Dawson and the other Growers, come tomorrow."  
>"Does your guest, that other human female...does she know?" The wood beast leered up at the ivory moon above.<br>"No. And I do not intend to tell her. I'm not with my thief anymore. I no longer have any place within that world of smoke and iron. Sophie can't be my family anymore. I have no family left."

It broke what remained of her heart to utter that statement. But in her mind, Gwenevere had lost everything. Becoming the Last Mother was now her only chance at life.

She had no other choice.

NETHALZIA  
>PRESENT DAY<p>

Gwenevere closed her eyes, allowing her breath to leave her body slowly as she sank beneath the layer of foamy bubbles. A bath. Not standing naked in the rain, nor swimming in a forest spring. A real bubble bath, in a real bathtub. This was perhaps the only luxury of her past life that she had actually missed.

She lay there in her bed of suds, illuminated by the faint orange flicker of the three candles across from her. They smelled faintly of a chilly, moss laden spring. Their embers reflected against the stone surface of the sink and the dusty mirror just behind it. Gwenevere smiled shyly at her content reflection.

How she wished that she could stay like this! Living a simple life; living here in Nethalzia with Garrett. Gwenevere giggled at the thought, closed her eyes, and began to ponder such things. She could get a job in the village, perhaps even that little bistro she had so badly wanted to visit earlier that day. Yes! She would work hard, and bring joy to each and every customer the small restaurant received.

After work, she would return home to the town home and clean it while Garrett slept upstairs. A part of Gwenevere already knew that the thief would never give up his trade, even if she had a steady source of income. It wasn't about stealing to him; it was about performing his skill. His art. And Gwenevere had to respect his conviction.

Even if she had chosen a new road, she would always be there to support any and all of his own personal endeavors. She would cook for him, more than she had ever cooked before! She would buy books on the matter, and she would practice every day. After Garrett came home from a successful haul, Gwenevere promised herself that she would always have a hot supper waiting for him.

She rose her leg up out of the water, watching as the bubbles slid away back into the bath. What else could her perfect future have in store? That's when Gwenevere suddenly remembered; the seeds. She closed her eyes, and a single tear ran across her flushed cheek.

She would finally be able to plant them.

"Gwenevere?" Garrett's voice registered within her lost ears, tearing her away from that wonderful place where only whimsy and daydreams reside.

"Yes?" She piped up, struggling to get out of the water.  
>"Take it easy in there, I'm not coming in. Besides, I doubt there's anything left to hide anymore." He gave a hopeful chuckle.<p>

At least, he hoped that the nymph wasn't hiding anything else; sporting a ligneous tail or set of leafy wings that he didn't know about.

"Oh, that's okay. I was almost done anyway." She replied happily through the oak door. Garrett leaned in, pressing his ear against the wood and spoke again.  
>"That's good actually. I want to show you something."<br>"Oh?"  
>"Just come on out when you're ready Gwenevere." There was a short pause, and the thief heard the water beginning to drain away before she spoke to him again.<br>"Alright!"

Gwenevere looked herself over in the mirror. Picking up a wooden brush, she combed her damp locks and finished drying herself. She wrapped a towel around her body and then stared into the mirror again.

Gwenevere knew that even as badly as she wanted all those things, they could never be. Garrett would only be living here for a short while, after which he planned to return to the city once more. He was a very stubborn, very conservative human. More than any other she'd met in her travels.

Her expression paled, and she began to frown. Garrett wasn't the only one who had reasons to return. Her month spent with the Growers felt more like a year. So much had happened, so much change. It was during this time that she had begun to silently accept her role as a nymph, and to a lesser extent, The Last Mother. Although the notion of becoming a goddess still filled her with uncertainty, Gwenevere had now made a promise to the forest itself.

A dark promise that she wasn't sure she would be able to break.

"What have I done?" She whispered.

*********************************  
>Gwenevere dressed in the soft black dress Sophie had given her, and exited the bathroom in search of Garrett. She found him by the front door, leaning against the wall.<p>

"About time." He grinned. Stepping forward, he replaced his mask up over his mouth and nose. Gwenevere cocked her head, a bit confused as to why he had done this.  
>"Are we going out on a job?"<br>"Yes and no." The thief replied, his tone muffled slightly. Before she could inquire further, Garrett took up both of her hands and gently led her towards the back door. "Come on. There's something that I want you to see."  
>The two shadows flew through the night with both agility and grace. From beneath the confines of his mask, Garrett wore a mischievous smirk. He watched as Gwenevere raced along behind him, eager to catch up. Her delicate face was filled with zest and exuberance as she chased after him.<br>Well what do you know? Looks like she's actually pretty competitive given the right circumstances... His grin expanded and his eyes twinkled.  
>Finally, they reached the top of a hill on the outskirts of the village. The moon was full and bright up in the crisp sky. It shone brilliantly on the glistening snow and highlighted the surrounding frosted forests in the splendorous silver of its beams.<br>"Garrett?" She approached her mentor, her face flushed from running. "What are we doing here?"  
>"See for yourself." The thief nodded, pointing up to the endless sky.<br>The nymph's eyes widened in wonder. Waves of rainbow were lazily careening through the sky overhead. In delicate twisted drizzles, they danced across the night, the stars and moon their partners in the midnight waltz.  
>"This is your first night here in Nethalzia, so of course you wouldn't be aware of the evening show. Back in the city, there's too much pollution to see anything even remotely close to this. But here..."<br>"It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen..." Gwenvere gasped.  
>Garrett suddenly found himself staring down at her. The sight of his Gwenevere, illuminated by the light of the full moon and the enchanted sea of rainbows just overhead.<p>

That, was the very definition of absolute beauty.

He removed his mask before speaking.  
>"Likewise."<br>He carefully wrapped his cloak around her delicate shoulders and continued to watch the auroras spin their luster throughout the heavens. Gwenevere rested her head against his upper arm, and the thief in turn held her body closer. Garrett laced his slender digits through Gwenevere's, feeling how much smaller her hand was than his.  
>"This is so much better than the bistro..." She sighed.<p>

"Everything's always better at night, Gwenevere."

"I know." She smiled. A brisk wind howled overhead, prompting the young woman to gaze upward. It blew wild strands of ruby hair across her gleaming celadon eyes.  
>"Before Simmons found me, I used to stay up late just to enjoy the quiet nothings and serene peace of the forest at night. People say that the only difference between day and night is the darkness, but they're very wrong." She looked up at the sky again, lost in thought. "Night is when the world shows her true splendor. Her mysteries."<br>Garrett wrapped his strong arms around her now shivering form.  
>"Sometimes the obvious things can be the hardest to see."<p>

**************************************

Gwenevere sat at the foot of the bed, her mind troubled and alert with concern.

Once again, a vicious nightmare had thwarted an otherwise perfect evening with her thief. But this particular one, left Gwenevere mortified. She had watched the wound on Garrett's cheek grow septic with the curse. It had spread and grown, steadily killing him.  
>His dying words...Words that she could never ignore or forget had caused her to awaken in a bath of soiled sweat. She already knew that it had been her mother's doing. Viktoria's vengeful spirit had placed a death hex upon the thief. Unlike her placid daughter, the wood nymph had not been shy when it came to using dark nature magic. Anything, to protect her forest.<br>Her daughter.  
>Gwenevere smiled into the face of her beloved. The greatest thief who had ever lived. The greatest person that she had ever known. She now had a way to relieve him of said curse, but it would come at a high price. Her eyes danced amongst the shadows, silently watching Garrett as he slept. Bittersweet tears left her eyes like dewdrops.<p>

The others would never understand; they couldn't. He hadn't tainted her, he had purified her.

His teaching had given her life, and his firm guidance and honest words had shaped her. It was through Garrett, that Gwenevere had become the strongest of her kind. A nymph whose power was no longer rooted to the forest alone. She was capable of surviving anywhere now, thanks to him.

"Oh Garrett. I want to stay with you, more than anything." She whispered. "If only I was more like you. If I had of stayed that day at the asylum, if I'd been more stubborn. Really, what could you have done? I'm a creature of magic and power, you're just a mortal man. You couldn't have made me leave your side." Her petite form shook violently, and she released a defeated sigh.  
>"Yet, somehow, I believed you when you told me that you did not love me. I listened when you told me to go." She hesitated for a moment, then more tears came. "No. Not you. I listened to my own fears instead of seeing past your cruel tongue. Terror became reality despite the true nature of those sentiments."<br>Gwenevere ground her teeth, grabbing at the sides of her arms as the pain of reality resided within her. Sappy yellow blood found her fingers where her nails had punctured flesh, but she couldn't feel the pain. The inferno that now claimed her heart was easily outweighing it. Nothing she could possibly say would matter. She couldn't be with Garrett now. She had agreed, and the wood beast was colliding with her even as the tears left her eyes.

Finalizing a nineteen year incubation period. The Last Mother.

"If only I had of stayed! Now..." She shuddered, tracing the mark on the thief's face again. Garrett murmured and shifted his position slightly under her touch.  
>"I think it's time I let you go... and that is hard to do because part of me will be in love with you for the rest of my life."<br>With that, Gwenevere pressed her lips to his blackened scar. The cursed magic that was slowly killing him. A welcoming green light enshrouded the two, as Gwenevere's lips pressed firmly against his warm flesh. Garrett remained asleep, although his lips quirked into a temporary smile, however small and fleeting it was.  
>When the nymph withdrew her face from that of her lover, the sick black mark was gone. Gwenevere crawled into the bed and nestled next to her thief's chest. She listened as his body rose and fell, his soft snoring a melodious lullaby to her weary ears. Within moments, she was asleep.<p> 


	71. Chapter 74

The next night, it was raining in Nethalzia. Garrett stepped out of the apartment with a frown, casting his eyes up to meet the storm. There was something very strange with the world tonight. Normally, in mid-January, any moisture in the atmosphere would become snow long before hitting the earth.

This was a very shrill, very cold, very ominous, rainstorm.

But he shook it off as just weird weather, or signs of an early Spring, and called out for his apprentice.

"Gwenevere. Come on, we're gonna miss the train!"

Gwenevere burst through the bedroom door, bumping into an end table and struggling to get the last of her clothes on. She was balancing and hopping on her left foot as she desperately pulled and tugged the remaining boot up over her calf.

"Just a second!" She grunted from beneath the confines of her navy blue mask.

She was wearing her hand stitched apprentice garb again, and her long ponytail bobbed and bounced from her efforts. Garrett sighed, crossing his arms. He looked up towards the ceiling and rolled his eyes.

"Do you need help or something?"

"N-no, that's alright." Gwenevere managed. With one final pull, she managed to secure her boot. She met the bemused gaze of her mentor, her eyes shimmering with pure joy. "See? I'm all ready!"

"Good. Let's get going. I hope you don't mind running."

"Nope."

After securely locking the door, the two rogues raced away towards the train that would carry them back to the city once more.

Although, unbeknownst to Garrett, he would be staying a bit longer this time.

"What?! Why the taff are you going back there Gwenevere?!" Garrett barked, his voice temporarily louder than the thundering boxcar. The green-eyed nymph looked down at her feet, toying with her hair.

"Well, I made them a promise Garrett. I said I'd help them. Besides, poor Sophie and Pilfur are probably worried sick about me! I can't just leave them to forever fret over where I've gone!" She looked up, concern written within her youthful face.

Garrett looked out the wide boxcar door and released a heavy sigh.

"Gwenevere. Sophie saw me the night I came back for you. She's no fool. She probably already knows that you came to Nethalzia with me. I never infiltrate a place without taking my prize with me after all."

Gwenevere's smile lengthened, his sudden show of affection catching her unprepared. She, was his prize?!

"I-I..." She blushed. "Garrett. I don't expect you to understand my reasons, but I need to keep this promise. Please, you said you trusted me right?"

"Yeah? Of course I do. What's your point?" Garrett's agitated reply could not mask the worry in his tone.

"I need you to trust me now. I promise you Garrett, I'll come back to you. No matter what."

"No matter what eh?" He quipped dryly.

She crawled over to him on her hands and knees, and when she reached the thief, he suddenly grew very stiff. The nymph looked into him, trying to gauge just how dire his desperation was. Did he sense her plans? Or did he just fear losing her to the Growers again? Either way, Gwenevere knew one thing. The thief's need for her had never been greater.

His aching expression and pained eyes; he did not want her to go back there.

"I-" He began. "I need to go and pay Basso a visit. He's no doubt wondering where his commission is. You know, that stone I sold you at the museum?"

"Oh, that was for Basso then?" The young woman blushed sheepishly. No doubt the boxman was going to be rather unhappy about that.

"Well he's the only fence I have now, so yeah."

"For what it's worth, the Growers put it to good use." Gwenevere replied softly.

Garrett's eyes narrowed. There was something very disturbing about the way she had uttered those words. He was about to inquire, when a high pitched train whistle sounded.

"We're here..." He muttered.

The two stood, and prepared to depart their separate ways within the city. Garrett stared into Gwenevere. His urge to keep her safe, to keep her close had never been stronger. But once again, he brushed aside such tender feelings. Gwenevere had a job to do. And so did he.

"Gwenevere. I don't know what your business with the Growers is, but please, promise me that you'll be aware of your surroundings. Don't let your guard down around them, especially that Dawson." He ushered his final warning to her.

"Will do. I'll be fine though." She smiled. "I got my spore grenades and everything." She winked, opening her fur satchel for him to see.

"Alright then. I'm going to go and try to smooth things over with Basso. Hopefully the old taffer isn't too miffed. We'll rendezvous back here just before dawn, understood?"

"Got it!" Gwenevere giggled, once again displaying that carefree wild charm almost unknown to humans.

Garrett hesitantly let her race off into the night, his hand nearly reaching out for her as she disappeared from sight. He wasn't normally this nervous or heartfelt, but perhaps a part of him knew.

That this was the last time he would ever see her so pure and innocent.

The Grower compound was warmer than Gwenevere remembered. She made her way down the sloping ridge, stopping only once to marvel at the quaint layout of the quiet village below. The windows were all bathed in a soft yellow glow, and the world outside was blanketed in a thick layer of virgin snow.

The nymph smiled. She was beginning to miss Pilfur. That little kitten had grown so affectionate of her over the last few months, and he rarely left her side. Until now. Gwenevere wondered if Pilfur would be resentful of her for leaving him. Cats were notoriously known for holding grudges, and the tiny black kitten was certainly no different.

"I'll just say I'm sorry. He'll understand, I know it!" She reasoned. Even if he was displeased with her, she had far more important things to worry about. Locating Erin, and the Primal Stone for one.

She hadn't gone but a mere twenty feet, when a familiar raspy voice caught her ears. They pricked slightly, a nymph trait which was rarely noticed by anyone, due to Gwenevere's long flowing mane.

"So, returned again have you?" Gwenevere closed her eyes and huffed in mild frustration. The temple keeper stood stiff as stone, waiting for her to turn around.

"I'm not about to go back on my word. You know this."

"Indeed I do. The bestial side of you wouldn't allow it. It would sooner cause you to kill yourself than let you refuse your destiny as the Last Mother."

"I know that! Look, I came here for information." Gwenevere finally turned around and faced the wizened old hermit. "Can you help me?"

The temple keeper stroked his matted beard, watching her motions and desperation with utmost wariness. The way she panted, her eyes wide and dedicated. There was no doubt about why she had returned so soon to the forest. That human, was once again involved in her life.

"What's this about?" He asked.

"The Primal Stone. For as long as I can recall, people have told me that I have the power to sense it. To harness it, whatever that means."

"Oh-ho child! I don't think you want to know what that means." The elder chuckled. "Let's just say, if you thought the wood beast was a monster by itself..."

A shiver ran down Gwenevere's spine. There was something that could make her even worse than the wood beast?!

"Look, I don't wanna use it or anything!" She straightened her posture, Garrett's arrogance and callous tongue apparent in her every syllable. "Truth is, I couldn't even if I wanted to..." She hesitated, looking down to the dirty snow covering her boots. She brushed her right foot over an uneven lump in the snow, freeing a sprouting plant from its icy prison.

"Then what is it you are searching for? I am afraid that I do not understand."

"I...I heard a rumor some time ago, that it may have been infused into a young woman during a ritual gone wrong."

"Hmmm...where exactly did you hear this?" The temple keeper took a step closer.

"Doesn't matter anymore. She's running out of time. I want to help her. Please..." Gwenevere extended her hand to the ancient creature. "Please, teach me how to sense the Primal. Do this, and I shall begin phase one of the Last Mother ritual." She bowed her head in sincerity, a final tear over the loss said ritual would bring escaping her eye.

The temple keeper seemed to mull over this proposition for a moment, but eventually, he did agree.

"So be it. Meet me atop the cliff where we spoke a fortnight ago, and I shall teach you how to freely sense the Primal Stone." He turned around and started away. "After which, I expect you to rally your followers, Last Mother. When the Woodsie Beast lets loose its mighty roar, all disciples of the earth shall come forth to do her bidding. And we'll need all the help we can get if we are going to survive."

"Okay, if it will save the forest, I'll do it." Gwenevere solemnly vowed. Then she looked the elder in the eyes. There was no wood beast in her now.

Just the determination of a valiant young maiden.

"But keep in mind, that I care about what happens to those in the city as well..."


End file.
